


Behind Closed Doors

by lonelychicagos



Category: La casa de papel | Money Heist (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Mutual Pining, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-12
Updated: 2021-02-24
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:55:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 21
Words: 104,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24689491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lonelychicagos/pseuds/lonelychicagos
Summary: Relationships are messy. Fake relationships are messier. Add decades of friendship, a man who's never had much experience with dating, and a woman whose heart has been carefully tucked away for good, and it will result in a great mess.Raquel Murillo's reputation as an actress is constantly defamed by media outfits who seem to rejoice in her demise. She asks her old friend, Sergio Marquina, a favor that could end in a tainted friendship between the two of them. She knew it was a risk, yet he was her only hope. Her only prayer is that he says yes.AU. Multi Chapter.
Relationships: Raquel Murillo/Professor | Sergio Marquina
Comments: 545
Kudos: 891





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! This is my first multi-chapter fic, and I'm excited to share this with you! Anyways, please listen to the playlist I curated for this story. 
> 
> https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5lQJVR6CDFaYXYs9cQa6Zd

_Raquel Murillo’s Film “In Transit” Hits Cinemas on Valentine’s Day_

_Story by: Mariana Zamores |February 10, 2019_

_Get your tissues and popcorns ready as Raquel Murillo’s newest film, In Transit, heads to the cinemas on February 14. The film is about an estranged couple who finds themselves traveling from one country to another in hopes of saving their doomed marriage._

_“The film is a tearjerker, so be ready to weep your hearts out,” Tanya Martinez, the film’s producer, and director told the press during a briefing on Tuesday._

_Murillo, who plays Andrea, recalls her experience with the film’s cast and crew. “The script is beautiful, the set is beautiful, the score is beautiful, and we can’t wait for everyone to see it. It’s a hard material to flesh out, but everyone on set is very supportive and amazing, they made it easy despite all the dramatic scenes we had to shoot.” She shared in an exclusive interview with Buzz España_

_The actress, who is best known for her role as Clarissa in the action movie, Curious Minds, found it hard to shoot her first romance film after her divorce with film producer Alberto Vicuña. “I’ve been shooting action films for the past ten years and I’ve been a cop before that. In between them, I only starred in three romantic movies. It’s a bit difficult when you see yourself in the same situation as your character, I’d rather have me and my character in two different planes.”_

_“Murillo is one of the best actresses in the industry now. Her background may be playing cops and shooting criminals, but her personality and determination made it easy for us to work with each other during production,” Martinez commented on the actress’ work ethic. “You just have to watch and see the raw talent she has on-screen. This might be the best movie I’ve done in ages.”_

_Catch the film “In Transit” starring Raquel Murillo and Fabian Ortega in cinemas this Valentine’s Day!_

_Share your thoughts and comment below!_

Raquel Murillo groaned.

“It’s not that bad,” Agata, her agent, commented. “It’s better than that other news outlet. Actually, it’s not bad at all!”

“If only I’m allowed to get ahold of my old badge and handcuffs during interview, they wouldn’t bring Alberto up every now and then!” She thrashed, almost throwing her phone across the room.

Agata seethed. “Calm down, cariño. You’re wrinkling your dress.”

The actress was wearing a deep burgundy floor-length dress which hugged her figures in the right places. It was paired with a new pair of Louboutin pumps and a thin chain necklace which adorned her neck gracefully. Her hair was nicely done as the curls rested on one shoulder, exposing the olive skin of her back. It was In Transit’s premiere night at Cinema Capitol, with an after-party waiting for the cast and crew at a hotel nearby. It was supposed to be a night about Raquel and the would-be success of her new film.

But a certain news outlet had to dig up her love life and ruin her day.

Everyone seems to be talking about her divorce with one of the industry’s biggest producers, Alberto Vicuña. It’s been two years since they last saw each other in person, but her ex-husband seemed to capitalize on her success and frequently commented on her work with every entertainment magazine he acquires an interview with.

Now they won’t stop talking about it.

Every interview, every article, every single story on the internet about her seems to be tied with her failed relationship with Alberto.

“Don’t worry about it, Raquel. They’ll get over your divorcee status when they watch your film.” Agata commented while applying a dash of eyeliner under her eyes. “We’re drinking this out later.” She reassured her client.

Raquel didn’t know whether to smile or to glare at her manager. “And what about the producers who don’t want me in their film because I’m too “unstable?”” She quoted using her fingers to emphasize her point.

“I’ll convince them to let you do a reading, okay?” Agata promised.

Raquel joked. “You better. That’s your job.”

“Temper, temper, mi amor.”

The car pulled to a halt in front of the old European building. Hundreds of media personnel are lined on each side of the makeshift red carpet. From a distance, she can see her castmates waiting for the other members of the production near the cinema’s entrance.

Agata went out first. She was greeted by the warm applause of Raquel’s fans who came to know her as her talent agent and friend. Raquel waited in the car for a few more minutes before the bodyguard lightly knocked on her door, indicating that it was her turn to be seen. She glanced at the car’s rear-view mirror and sighed.

Camera flashes blinded her eyes as she gave the best smile she can give to the paparazzi. She winked at a camera every now and then and tried out different angles for the media to catch on. Her heart out went out for her fans who never ceased to attend every gala night despite not being allowed inside. She recognized the faces of a few people who introduced themselves as her biggest fans. Raquel was never able to grasp on how she’s one of the star actors in the industry now, but she’s always been grateful for the people behind her success. Including her fans.

As she arrived at the end of the walkway near the entrance, she gave her last sweet smile to the cameras and almost ran toward her castmates.

Her eyes met with Fabian’s, her husband in the film, and faintly squealed, “Fabian! I’ve missed you!” She hugged him politely, wary not to give off anything to the media that would result in a new article about her.

He smiled softly at his castmate, “I’ve missed you too, carino!”

The reunion between the production team was short but sweet. Soon they were ushered inside the cinema; she turned her head around for her fans one last time and waved at them excitedly.

The movie was a success. No one can deny that. After the wide shot of Andrea holding a lone suitcase and a ticket rolled, there was a deafening silence that made Raquel’s heart stop. She’d know the audience’s verdict within the few seconds that preceded that silence. She’d wondered if the critics hated her acting, and she was about to believe that until she heard someone sob. Then a clap came. Then another. As the ending credits rolled up on the screen, applause filled the cinema.

To say that Raquel Murillo was overwhelmed was an understatement.

The cast and crew bade their farewell to the audience and critics as they boarded a van that accompanied them to the hotel.

The hotel’s bar was enormous. Dimmed yellow lights and blue neon ones filled the room. It’s obvious that the bar can be transformed into something more extravagant, something more suited for dancing while drunk purposes. But it was clear that it wasn’t appropriate for an afterparty like theirs. High top tables were scattered on the supposed dance floor and soft party music permeated throughout the bar. Servers roamed around the room, offering finger food and cocktail drinks to anyone they encounter. It was elegant, but it was a party alright.

“Tokio!” Her excitement washed through as Raquel saw her friend enter the hotel bar. “You cut your hair! Again!” Raquel doesn’t know if it’s the energy of the room transferring to her body, or the fact that it’s been months since she’d last seen her friend, but it was obvious to anyone who’d walk past her that she’s had a little much to drink.

Tokio touched her now shoulder-length mane, “yeah. I did. Congratulations, Raquel! I loved the movie.” She complimented.

Raquel gave her a grin, “were you at the premiere? I didn’t see you there.”

“No, but my intern covered for me. I hope her photos are as good as mine.” She rolled her eyes. “Now, do you have a date or something?” The photographer changed the subject.

It was the actress’ turn to roll hers. “No. You know I don’t do that anymore.”

“You better find yours. Time’s ticking, tiktok,” she reminded, tapping her wristwatch to emphasize her point. “Tiktok.”

“You’re an ass.” Raquel chided, “you’re lucky I haven’t seen you in ages.”

Tokio and Raquel met at one of her first photoshoots as an actor. The 32-year-old woman made a name in advertising for her talent in photography. She used to be an award-winning photojournalist before she shifted to the industry. Tokio went to Brazil for a few months to make a research on their indigenous people. The photographer made it home just in time for In Transit’s gala night.

Raquel’s lucky she made it on time. She needed to see an old face amongst the sea of people she’s been constantly seeing for the past months. So, despite her constant annoyance with her friend, Raquel was very grateful to see her today.

“So,” Raquel sipped from her Appletini, “how are things with you and Rio?”

“Good, good! Everything’s good! He’s been a real angel and toured me around Brazil.” Tokio took a bite of the cheesecake bites in her hand, “I think we might have consummated all the places we went to,”

Raquel almost choked on her drink, “too much information, Tokio.”

Tokio paused and feigned thought, “I think we did it, even at the tents. My only hope is that you have the same sex life, Raquel.”

Raquel was sure she choked on her drink this time, “who—”

“I’m your friend, I’d know when a man has successfully slithered in your pants. Alicia and Monica, too, would know,” she said matter-of-factly. “But there’s not even a man to slither in you, babe. That’s why we loosen up!”

Raquel wanted to splash the remaining contents of her glass in her friend’s face, but she knew Tokio was right. The truth hurt. “I’m loosening up!” She countered.

“A little.” Tokio put up her almost touching thumb and index finger. “We need girls’ night soon.”

“Okay.”

“And I mean the real thing! Nightclubs and dancing! Not the wine nights we have. I love you and Monica, and all your tears, but Alicia and I can’t deny that we need something stronger than that.”

Raquel finally gave in, “okay.” She laughed. “Although Alicia shouldn’t come. She’d scare away all the men with her too pregnant belly.”

The night went on smoothly as Raquel divided her attention between the cocktail bar, Tokio, and her castmates. One by one, the bar emptied itself. Tokio had to retire early as she still suffered jet lag. Agata bade her farewell as well.

Raquel’s fifth glass of Appletini was half-finished when she realized that she had no means of going home. Her agent offered her a lift, but she reassured Agata that she’d arrange for the driver who drove them to the premiere to accompany her home. She was too focused on the afterparty, she completely forgot about it. The remaining of the production members in the bar were too wasted for her to be driven safely home.

With her head throbbing, she fished out her phone for her small purse and combed out her contact list. Monica? Denver’s not at home and Cincinnati shouldn’t be left alone. Andres? He wouldn’t even text her back. Martin? Too far from the hotel. Alicia? Too pregnant she might pop any time.

Reluctantly, she tapped on the last person on her contact list and the only person she'd trust her life with.

“Hello?” His voice still pulled back by slumber greeted her.

“Hi, sorry to wake you up. I know you’re already sleeping and it’s already 2 a.m., but I was hoping if you could give me a ride home? I think I’d exhausted all means already.” She said sheepishly.

He contemplated, “give me ten minutes. Where are you?”

“I’m at the Hyatt,” she answered.

“Okay, I’ll see you there,” then he hung up.

And so, Raquel waited.

 **"I’m here."** Her phone lit up. She gathered her purse and took the last gulp of her drink.

Raquel looked for a black Sedan from the hotel lobby. If she stepped a foot outside the hotel on her own, a photographer might encounter her drunken state. She couldn’t risk that. A car horn made a noise and she knew it was him.

He rolled down his window. “Hi, gorgeous.”

“Sergio,” she smiled. “I’m really sorry I woke you up.”

“It’s fine. Get in here.” Sergio opened the car on her side and welcomed her.

Their contrast was amusing. He was wearing old grey sweatpants and a black shirt, and she was wearing a sparkling red designer gown. His hair was slightly tousled, whilst hers was still perfectly held in place despite hours of dancing.

“You’re a sight. Had fun dancing?” He asked as he drove away from the hotel.

She laughed lightly. “No. But I had fun drinking.”

“I’m sorry I wasn’t able to go to your movie premiere.” 

“It’s fine. I know your students can get you really cranky, especially after exams.” She chided.

“I get cranky, huh?”

“Yeah, you do. You’re never annoyed at me. But after grading your students’ tests, you can’t wait to get away from my annoying ass.”

He laughed at her comment, “your ass is not annoying. In fact, I think you have a wonderful ass.”

“I knew it! You’re more of an ass guy!” She teased.

“As opposed to what? A chest-loving guy?”

She nodded, “You men are either this or that, you’re too easy to read.”

“What’s so good about muscles and two pairs of fat sac?” He asked, “I mean, would it make a difference? If it brings pleasure to a man, it brings pleasure to a man.”

“That’s such a forensics professor thing to say.”

“Which I am.”

Her eyes narrowed at the familiar street they just passed. “I think you passed my apartment complex two blocks ago.”

“I know,” Sergio kept his eyes on the road. 

She squinted her eyes. “Not that I don’t trust you, but where are you taking me?”

“Did you eat dinner?” He asked.

Her stomach growled at the thought. “No. I ate lunch though.”

“That’s what? 12 hours ago?” He glanced at her worriedly, “we’re going to Hanoi.”

She smiled at him gratefully. Raquel doesn’t deserve him.

Hanoi wasn’t any different from when she last ate there. They didn’t even bother with an expansion even when the café proved to be a hit among its customers. Four booths still lined up pressed upon the window, chairs and tables filled the other side of the restaurant, and the stools were still fixed near the counter. The only addition the restaurant owners have made was the new television propped up on the wall.

“Hey, Sergio! Raquel, it’s nice to see you again!” Marco greeted. He was the server and counter guy from when Raquel and Sergio frequented the place in their 20s. It was their college hangout, being the only 24-hour café near the university. It has seen Raquel’s academic induced breakdowns and Sergio’s finals all-nighters. “What can I get you?”

Raquel picked their favorite booth. The second one from the door. “I’ll get an aglio e olio and an iced coffee, please.” She called out.

Sergio sat in front of her, “I’ll get a sandwich and a black coffee.”

“Thanks for bringing me here. I’ve missed their pasta so much!” She said excitedly.

“It’s nothing. I figured it’s been a while since you’ve been here.”

They caught up on each other’s business for the past weeks. Sergio was the only other person she’s in constant communication with other than her three wine-blooded friends, and her agent. And yet, they never run out of subjects to talk about. Whether it's her work, or his profession, her travels, or his discoveries in the human anatomy, they seemed to be engrossed and comfortable with each other.

Marco soon arrived with their orders. “Congratulations on your movie, I hear it’s a hit.” He said as he passed on the plate of paste in front of her.

“How—”

“That,” he bobbed his head toward her dress, “and I saw it on television.”

She felt overwhelmed, “I hope you heard good stuff.”

“It’s all good.” He confirmed. “Enjoy your food. We missed you here, Raquel.” 

Marco treated Sergio and Raquel like they were his siblings. “You too, Marco,” she replied.

“So,” Sergio started, “I saw that Buzz España article.”

“I didn’t know you read online magazines, Sergio. How scandalous!” The actress feigned interest. She’s not liking where this topic is going.

“You know what I saw. How are you holding up?” She wasn't, but the movie premiere and the cast party proved to be an effective distraction. Just exactly what Raquel needed.

“I’m so tired of it.” Her posture faltered. “It’s like I’m tied to his name, and wherever I go or whatever I do, his name will always be brought up. The last time I talked to him was a year ago. The last time I saw him was months after the divorce. Why can’t they just stop?”

His tone softened as he reached out to her hand across the table. “I’m sorry, Raquel.” 

“No, it’s fine. I just get frustrated a lot, knowing that I can’t do anything about it.”

“I can help you,” he offered. “We can sue them for libel or ask them to take the articles down.”

Raquel snorted, “that’s nice of you, but it would only look that I’m guilty, and proving malice in a libel suit would be difficult. It’s not even half as bad as the other articles.”

“Well, there goes my hospitality.” He joked.

The actress smiled at his sincerity, “it’s fine. Hopefully, it ends soon.”

The drive back to her apartment was silent. Raquel wasn’t sleepy at the least, the alcohol and coffee finally kicking in. She basked at the comfortable silence between the two of them. Sergio gave her a quiet glance every minute or two to ensure that she was still awake.

Sergio pulled up at her flat’s front door. They walked up the front porch in silence and halted as she fished for her keys. Raquel opened the door slowly, “thank you, Sergio.”

She hugged him in gratefulness, “it’s nothing.” He whispered.

They stared at each other, engulfing each other in their stares.

A beat passes.

One.

Two.

Three.

She returned to his embrace; her head cradled in his shoulder. “I’m grateful I have you.”

“And I, you.” He whispered back.


	2. Chapter 2

_Film Producer, Albert Vicuña Spreads Truth About Ex-Wife._

_Story by: Dana Tamares | February 18, 2019_

_Alberto Vicuña, the producer of Black Strings spread the truth about his ex-wife on social media one week after In Transit’s movie premiere. The producer tweeted on Friday, “You don’t get to say that when you’re the one who ruined our marriage,” as a reference to Buzz España’s previous interview with actress Raquel Murillo on her new film._

_“It’s a bit difficult when you see yourself in the same situation as your character, I’d rather have me and my character in two different planes.” The actress said in an interview with Buzz España._

_Murillo’s fans immediately came to her aide as they called on Twitter to delete the tweet against the actress. The tweet was deleted two days after it has been posted._

_Buzz España interviewed Vicuña on Saturday about the issue and said, “I was surprised and hurt with what she said on the interview.”_

_Murillo and the producer had been married for four years before legally separating two years ago._

_Buzz Españaare still gathering information from Murillo’s side, but the actress refused to comment on the issue._

_The actress is the leading lady in the new romantic drama film, In Transit, directed by Tanya Martinez and produced by Atlanta Films._

_Share your thoughts! Comment down below._

“This news outlet is shit,” Alicia announced as she sipped on her cranberry juice in a wine glass. The woman was about 32 weeks in her pregnancy and might pop anytime. Alicia, however, refused to be left out from their monthly wine night and had to improvise on her drink.

“It’s nothing I can’t handle. It’ll pass after a different artist hits their entertainment radar.” Raquel moved from her spot on the carpeted floor to reach out to the bowl of popcorn in the center table. 

Tokio scoffed, “since when did you become such a pushover?”

“Since they stopped listening to my statements and deemed them as “lame” excuses,” Raquel explained. “I don’t even know what he’s getting with all this attention he’s gaining from the media.”

“He’s capitalizing on your fame,” Monica suggested. Everyone tipped their glasses on that one.

“Asshole,” Tokio whispered.

“So,” Monica turned to their pregnant friend, “have you decided on any boy names yet?” It brought a smile to their faces. No need to dwell on scandals and ex-husbands.

Alicia responded, “not yet. I’ll let the big man decide.”

“Who? God? Or the father of this child?” Tokio deadpanned. Laughter erupted from the living room of Raquel’s apartment.

The week went on as expected from an actress who just released a film. Raquel would wake to thousands of new notifications on her social media, and hundreds of e-mails asking her to do an interview with their network. The article Buzz España posted about Alberto did not receive enough attention, to Raquel’s relief, but it still had bothered her. More when Agata revealed something a few days after the article.

 **“Babe, call me.”** Agata texted. She picked up after a few rings.

“What’s up?” Raquel greeted, trying to keep a cheery tone for her manager. She knew her reputation wasn’t on a good precipice as of the moment.

“Bad news, hon.” Raquel’s breath hitched.

“What about it?” She silently hoped it wasn’t any of her major projects or advertisements. Maybe the Vera Wang dress she ordered got canceled? Or that her interview with that Hollywood media outlet got rescheduled?

“It’s about Vicuña’s thrashing on Twitter last week,” Agata slowly unraveled, afraid that Raquel might drop the call.

Raquel annoyingly sighed, “what is it this time?”

The last time Alberto made a statement about her in an interview, three products decided to withdraw her advertising contract. Not that she cared, it only showed her that the companies were led by men who thinks with the wrong head. Despite what the media says, Raquel has always been vocal of her views as a woman, and constantly empowers the female population every opportunity she gets.

“The casting director of Three Lives Left…”

Raquel’s eyes grew like saucers, “oh fuck.” It would have been a good sign if Agata’s mezzo tone rose octaves higher as she announced it, but it didn’t. Instead, she was silent.

Raquel eyed the role of Julieta in Three Lives Left. It was one of her favorite novels, and she is livid with the fact that she’s in line to get the lead role of the romantic action film. She’s been begging Agata to use her network to connect with the casting director and allow her to audition. For weeks, they’ve promised that they would give her a reading schedule. She’s afraid they might retract their decision.

“The director thinks you’re perfect for the role. The casting director doesn’t.” Agata explained.

Raquel seethed, “if the director thinks I’m perfect for the role why won’t they cast me already?”

Agata took a deep breath, “the executive producer agrees with him. He’s a colleague of Alberto.”

“Oh fuck,” Raquel swore softly. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!”

“I’ll try to pull some strings and hope they’ll let you in again, okay?” her agent tried to calm her down, “You’ve wanted this role ever since they announced the film. And you will get the role, okay?”

“Yeah.” The actress already felt lost. There was no promise in Agata’s voice, and there was no fulfillment on the line. “I’m hanging up now. Just let me know if anything changes, alright?”

“Alright.”

Then she hung up.

How was a man able to singlehandedly tarnish her career? The reputation she has built for the past ten years easily shambled by a few snide remarks by the person whom she trusted with her life before. Raquel hated how his tight grip and heavy hand could still to reach her even when he’s two cities away. How even when she blocked his accounts on her social media and deleted his number, his words still found a way to grind her confidence to sand.

Raquel felt furious. And there was only one way to calm her down.

Cheeseburger and fries.

She knocked on the door furiously with her left foot. Her hands are both occupied as two plastic bags of fast food and two tubs of ice cream hung from each one.

She shouted, “Open the do—”

The door opened to reveal Sergio wearing his casual button-down shirt and grey pants. “Were you going somewhere?” She asked.

He shook his head, “I just got home.”

“Perfect.” She smiled and showed him what she’s brought. “The ice cream is mine, though.”

His forehead crinkled, “what’s wrong?”

“What do you mean what’s wrong?” She stepped inside his apartment as he moved aside for her. “Nothing’s wrong.” She denied once again.

Sergio took the bags from her and went straight to the kitchen. “You abstain from desserts except for when you’re upset. So, the fact that you’re not sharing two tubs of ice cream irks me as of the moment.” 

She snorted, “oh don’t you play detective on me now, Sergio.”

He stared at her.

“Fine.” She flailed her arms as she plopped on his couch. “The EP of this film I wanted to do was Alberto’s colleague. I was supposed to do a reading with the supposed cast next month. Now I’m a free woman.”

He returned to the living room with a glass and a bottle of whiskey. “Whiskey on the rocks for the devastated lady.” She glared at him but gratefully took it.

“Thanks. I hope I’m not in the middle of any of your nauseating autopsy sessions. I hate the smell of formaldehyde.” She called to Sergio who was in the kitchen.

She heard his faint laugh from a distance, “no. I just got back from one. I hope I don’t reek of the chemical.” Raquel crinkled her nose in disgust.

His apartment was put on sale as a bachelor’s pad when he first bought it. But it doesn’t look exactly like one anymore. It looked too lived in. Shoes lined at the side of the front door; suit jackets draped across the headrest of his couch. Framed pictures of Andres, his mother, and his nieces stand shoulder to shoulder just above the fireplace—a photograph of the two of them in Toledo stood upright in the middle of it all. It was her favorite picture of the two of them. His arms draped around as he gave her a kiss on her cheek with Raquel laughing and winking at the camera as she took the photograph.

She smiled as she walked past the framed visual memory.

Raquel sat on the stool in the kitchen counter, “have you ever thought of donating your body for science when you pass away?” She asked curiously.

“I thought the forensic talk makes you sick?” He rallied her with another question.

She laughed, “the smell makes me sick, not the talk.”

He contemplated for a second, “not really? I’m not sure I would willingly give myself away, knowing the process we do with cadavers.”

“But you wouldn’t feel anything,” she countered.

“Why are you asking me this? Are you interested?”

She picked up one of the take-out boxes and a fork from Sergio’s cupboard. “No. Just curious.”

“You have a weird mind, Ms. Murillo.” She winked at him for his comment.

It was always the two of them. Raquel may have been hurled in a world where she has to constantly socialize with other people and Sergio may encounter a different set of faces every semester, but it was always the two of them.

Raquel met Sergio when she was 10. A murder scene wasn’t exactly a child-appropriate place, but Raquel begged to differ. She asked the police officers who the victim was and what they thought happened to the vic. They tried to shoo her away from the crime scene but soon found that the girl was determined for answers. So, they gave her some just to spite. Then another boy her age shyly marched toward the scene of the murder. That day they tried to solve the case of the woman who was murdered in cold blood in a secluded village in 1990 Madrid.

Raquel found Sergio’s company relaxing, and he found her presence riveting. They were inseparable ever since.

When he saw her posture deflating as she ate in silence, Sergio knew something was bothering Raquel. “Do you want to watch a movie?”

She glanced up at him. “It’s already late, I have to go home after.”

“It’s already late, might as well spend the night, right?” Sergio suggested.

“Chicago?” She smiled sweetly. Raquel knows Sergio can’t handle her enthusiasm for musical theatre, but since he suggested that it was movie night, she knows he’d let her pick the movie.

“We’re watching your fosse musical, but we’re watching my films afterward.” He negotiated.

She shrugged, “it’s fine. I’ll just sleep through it.”

Halfway through the musical, Raquel didn’t feel like watching anymore.

“This is total bullshit!” She announced, pointing to the television. “I think that the girls didn’t deserve to be convicted for their crimes.”

Sergio pushed his glasses further in his face to get a better look at Raquel. “And why is that?”

“The men they’re with are bastards. It could easily pass off as self-defense.” The former inspector seethed.

His eyebrow cocked in amusement. “No. Pop was too aggressive. She shot her partner for chewing gum.”

“Still," Raquel huffed. "He annoyed her.”

He laughed, “and that’s a valid reason for the court?” Her verdict was a yes.

She pulled herself in an Indian seat and faced her best friend. “Sometimes I think that the industry is too patriarchal,” she confessed. “You see a movie, and think, “Hey! This is very empowering for women!” then look at the credits and the production is mostly made up of men. Not that I doubt their abilities, I just hope women are the ones directing our narratives.”

“Don’t you want to be a director?” He asked.

She agreed, “yeah. But getting in as an actress is already hard. It’s more cutthroat if you want to be a director.”

If Sergio could roll his eyes at his friend, he would have done by now. “But you already got in. Just take the notch up a little higher and you’ll get there.”

“If only it was that easy.” She sighed.

He propped against the couch and faced her. “What would you direct if you’re able to?” He asked, genuinely curious of her answer. Raquel rarely shared her ideas and narratives to other people, so Sergio took his chances and nudged her to answer. He'll always be a fan of her great mind.

She contemplated, “I haven't put much thought about it. Either an all-woman cast, or a slice of life. I don't get to do much movies about them, maybe I should write one."

He kissed her forehead in adoration, “you’ll get there. I’m with you even if you probably don’t want to see men in your set.”

She lightly slapped his forearm. “I’m not asking for matriarchy. I’m asking for equality.”

“That you do.”

The blinding ray of sun seeping through the window woke her up. Irritated as she was with the glaring light, she was left more confused as she wondered how she transported to Sergio's bed. She truly wasn't kidding when she said she was going to sleep through his documentary. As courtesy for her barging in, she fixed the rather large bed, fluffed the pillows, and pulled back the curtains further, giving the room better light.

Raquel heard the faint sound of the toaster going off from his kitchen. Slowly, she made her way outside of the room, trying not to startle Sergio from his morning routine. “Did you sleep on the couch?” So much for not startling him, he almost spilled his coffee as he turned around and saw a bare-faced Raquel leaning on the kitchen counter.

“Where else would I sleep?” He placed his coffee mug in the center of his dining table in prevention.

“I don’t know,” she shrugged. “Your bed? I could have taken the couch. I’m your visitor.”

“No, you’re not. You’re a gatecrasher.” He recalled.

She took a bite of the toast he offered her, “oh, so you normally let gatecrashers sleep in your bedroom? How hospitable.” 

“No. Just you.”

She rolled her eyes, “Good morning, Sergio.”

He took a sip of his coffee. “Good morning to you too.”

“I’ll have to go home after breakfast. Agata scheduled an urgent lunch meeting with me.” Raquel narrated, holding up her phone for Sergio to see.

“Do you need a lift?” He offered.

She shook her head. “No need. I can manage.” They enjoyed the rest of the morning in comfortable silence. 

* * *

Agata arranged for a reservation at a small café twenty minutes away from her flat. She left her apartment a good half hour before their scheduled meeting but when she arrived, Agata was already in the café, reading what seemed to be The Art of War by Sun Tzu. The place her manager picked was a good spot. Not too much crowded, even for a place that's supposed to be packed during brunch. Either the food is bad, or it's just not the type of place you'll get your late breakfast at. 

“Sorry, I’m late.” Raquel rushed to her agent’s table.

Agata glanced at her wristwatch. “You’re not. I’m early.”

“Okay.” She eased as she sat down gracefully on the chair in front of Agata's. “What’s this meeting for? I don’t reckon you’ve already talked to the—”

Agata cut her off, “no. But I have an idea. I’ve researched on this before and I thought this would really boost your reputation. You know, get the media off your back, and have the producers respect you.” She didn't like the way her agent's face looked. Sheepish and hopeful. Not the best combination, if you'd ask Raquel. 

Raquel winced at the last sentence, “and what are you suggesting?” 

“I suggest you date.”

Raquel did a double flip, “what?”

Agata refused to repeat herself. “You heard me.”

“How is that even going to help my _reputation_? With all due respect, Agata, I think that might even add more salt to the wound.”

“There are no open wounds, Raquel. Hear me out. When you’re finally in a “stable” relationship, any news outlet who will make snide comments on your past relationships will receive flak from your fans. Producers will think you’re emotionally stable to give you a role in their fi—”

It was Raquel’s turn to cut her manager’s sentence. “Producers really think I’m too emotionally unstable to be a professional on set? I thought this was only a possibility?”

Agata looked down, “I think that’s how they generally see divorced actresses.”

She rolled her eyes in disgust. “And now you’re suggesting that I date? You know I have trust issues with letting anyone from the male population into my life.”

“Actually, not just date.” Agata winced at her next words as her pitch became slightly higher. “Maybe get engaged along the way?”

She laughed hysterically. “You’re nuts, Agata. If I’m repelled with the idea of dating anyone, surely you must know I’m not livid with the thought of anything that includes a ring on my left hand.”

Agata conceded. “Okay, I agree.”

“Finally.” Raquel sighed.

“Wait.” The actress glared at the woman in front of her, “how about a faux engagement?” This time, her tone was more serious, like a non-existent lightbulb suddenly lit up in her brain. If only Raquel could switch it off. 

Raquel wasn’t sure she heard Agata accurately. “A fake engagement? Really? That’s the best you can come up with?” She deadpanned.

“No. But do you have any other ideas?” Agata asked, “we’ve been trying to file libel suits and tried to contact these networks to take down their articles about you, but have we succeeded so far?” All Raquel could give was silence. Legally, they have done what they can. A libel suit will be a long and tiring process, not to mention redundant, as multiple news outlets will be sued, and not just one. They couldn't file a case against Alberto yet, the lack of evidence will get the case thrown before it could even get into trial. 

Agata continued, “this isn’t permanent. Just hire an actor or someone who’d play the part of your doting fiancé for a few months and when the time comes, you could let him go. You’re an actress, mi hija. It won’t be too hard for you.”

“If there are producers who think I’m emotionally unstable what makes you think I’d be willing to work with them? Or work in the industry for that matter?”

“You love your work, Raquel. You’ve never let anybody interfere with your passion for your craft." Agata said earnestly. "Besides, by leaving the industry, aren’t you being compliant to their baseless accusations?” 

Raquel couldn’t deny Agata made some valid points. “Fine. I’ll do it. But on my own terms.” She made a mental note to draft an agreement between her and Agata bearing her terms in this endeavor. 

Agata sat up and flashed a wicked grin, “It’s okay. But you have to go through that engagement. And I’ll have to show you a timetable of how things should escalate between you and your beau so that we’ll make it on time for Three Lives Left’s production.”

Raquel didn’t feel enthusiastic about the idea, but she complied. “Sure.”

“You better start finding a guy of your own soon.” The agent nagged her client.

She glared at Agata, “and where do you suggest I look for one, huh? I don’t have the time nor network.”

“How about the guy you’re always with? Sergio?” Agata innocently suggested. 

Raquel blinked, “what? No, no, no, not Sergio.”

Her manager shrugged, “then you better find a man, and quick. Chikipum, chikipum, chikipum!”

Raquel gulped with unease. She didn’t know where she’d be able to find a man who would be willing to do this with her. She wasn’t comfortable with what Agata suggested, more when she suddenly had a vision about her and Sergio in premiere nights, holding hands, and nights where she’d sleep in his arms. She shuddered at the thought.

What made her more uneasy was the fact that deep inside, she knew that Sergio would do this for her.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Birthday to Itziar Ituno!

_FIERCEST WOMEN IN THE FILM INDUSTRY_

_Story by: Alejandra Ramos | March 12, 2019_

_Gone are the days of male superheroes and protagonists. The industry has moved past the period where female leads are reduced to only being the love interest, sometimes unintentionally objectifying these wonderful characters. As we move forward from the concept of “Male Gaze”, Entertainment News Weekly present you the Top 3 women in the film industry today:_

_Juliana Verde. The actress is known for her work in theatre productions before she shifted to creating films. Verde starred in the musical Los Miserables both in and out of Spain. Her other theatre credits include Mamma Mia!, The Music Man, Chicago, and Ragtime. She started directing and acting in films in 2004, her debut film is “Love and Other Forms of War”, an experimental film that won several awards in the Cannes Film Festival including Best Leading Actress in a Film._

_Isabel Galvez. The award-winning actress is best known for the movie adaptation of the book series, “Two are Liars, Three are Dead”. Galvez started acting at the age of six, guest-starring in children’s shows like Barney and Friends. The child actor soon grew up to be one of the fiercest women in the industry as she took on the titular role of Lolita in its stage production in 2000 at the young age of 17._

_Raquel Murillo. The cop turned actress made her name by starring in several action movies after she graduated from the Academy. Murillo was able to utilize her police training in her roles as she has never used a stunt double before in her time in the industry. The actress who used to have minor roles in her films have slowly made her way up to the ladder until she landed the role of Clarissa in “Curious Minds”, an all-female action film that won Best International Feature Film in the 83rd Academy Award, and Best Leading Actress in a Film in San Sebastian International Film Festival._

_These women constantly prove their acting prowesses in a world of men. Catch these ladies on their respective projects, In Transit (Murillo), Stormhouse (Galvez), and Bailing Out (Verde)._

_Think we missed anyone? Comment down below!_

For three weeks, all Raquel could think of was Sergio.

No, not Sergio, but the question she soon would be asking him. Raquel could list down about a hundred ways things could go wrong if she asks Sergio to be her fake fiancé for the next few months:

  1. _My friendship with Sergio will be ruined._
  2. _we don’t have chemistry together!! (people might see through our act)_
  3. _Sergio will overthink his actions (he might give it away to the media!!!)_
  4. _the risk of ~~falli~~???_



Okay, maybe not a hundred ways. But she did make some valid points. Raquel crumpled the paper towel she wrote on and shoved it inside her purse. Anxiousness filled her stomach as she glanced at her wristwatch. 1:30 p.m. She scheduled a meeting with Sergio at Hanoi at 2. So, here she was, waiting, her heart refusing to stay still. This was Agata’s fault. This was her friends’ fault. If they had not suggested Sergio, she wouldn’t have scheduled this meeting at all. Besides, it wasn’t as if she was the one who texted Sergio to meet with her.

“Do you know where I can get a man to be my boyfriend for, I don’t know, 5 months or so?” Raquel asked Monica and Tokio two weeks before her dreadful appointment.

Monica coughed, almost spilling the latte she was holding, “what do you mean “boyfriend?””

“I think what you’re looking for is a fling.” Tokio pointed out. “For what, exactly?"

“What do you mean, “for what?” What if I decided that I wanted to enjoy my life with a man?” The actress countered, hoping they didn’t see through her nervous demeanor. Monica failed to—deciding that she was just curious and wanted to have fun. Tokio did, however.

Tokio squinted at her friend. “You don’t “enjoy” your life with a man, Raquel. You don’t trust the creatures.”

Raquel sighed, “look. Agata suggested that I needed to find a fake partner to stabilize my reputation in the industry. I’m running low on my projects right now.” It was true. Sure, interviews and endorsements are lined up after her activities in relation to her latest film, but that's it. She still hasn't agreed to any projects Agata has been offering her. 

Monica beamed in thought. “Smart.”

“No, not smart.” The brunette countered.

“No, she is. She’s trying to get you to date someone.” Monica explained. “Your agent is trying to get you a little less lonely.” 

“I’m not lonely, Monica.” Raquel said softly. “I am perfectly content with how I am spending my time with my friends and family.” She couldn't eve remember the last time she went on a date in the two years that she's been divorced. 

“Which makes it a top priority for you to get laid.” Tokio cut in, “not sure that pretend relationships still work today, but good luck with that.”

The blonde’s forehead creased, “are you sure you really want to do this Raquel?”

“To be completely honest? No. I, however, do not have any better ideas.” The actress shrugged, “at this point, I’m willing to go through anything for that role.”

“Why don’t you just audition for the role?” Tokio asked.

“You’re from advertising,” Raquel answered. “You of all people should know how cutthroat the industry is.” Tokio tipped the cup of tea she was nestling in her hand. “I just—do you know where I can get someone to play that role? I could pay, or it could be an IOU.”

Tokio snorted, “why don’t you ask Sergio? He’s single, right?”

“Yeah,” the actress answered off guard. Suddenly, her head whipped to face Tokio. “No, not him. Please.”

Monica sipped from her drink, “why not him? You look good together.”

“Oh please,” Raquel said, exasperated. “I don’t want to complicate things with the two of us.”

“It’s only going to be complicated if you allow it to.” The blonde replied. For a minute, Raquel believed Monica. Raquel and Sergio were accustomed to the teasing. Most of their high school colleagues thought that they were together or would soon be. Some bets were even made. The pair, however, were used to it. Her mother used to tease her when she was accompanied home by Sergio. His father even called her his daughter-in-law one time at the Marquina family dinner she was invited to.

* * *

_It was almost a week before prom night; and Raquel has yet to find a date. She’s not as excited as the other girls her year were, but she has to admit that the thought of dressing up and dancing the night away with her friends was riveting. The only problem is: no one has asked her out yet._

_Her eyes were set on Diego Alzate. He was her classmate in most of her classes. He wasn’t very smart, but he could be. And when he talks in class, even the footsteps outside soften to give way to his speech. She would always feel giddy as he directs a smile toward her in the hallway, or when he’d send her a wink from his seat in their classes together. Everyone seems to be enticed with him. Raquel was not exempted._

_"Diego!” Raquel caught the attention of a tall, blond guy as he walked past her in the corridor. She straightened her blouse and skirt and fixed her slightly slouched posture._

_The boy turned and smiled. “Hey, Raquel.”_

_Raquel fixed her eyes on the overhead banner painted with the words ‘Prom 1996’. She gulped, “I was wondering if you already have a date for prom?” She was constantly avoiding his gaze as she waited for a response._

_The tall boy scratched his nape and crinkled his nose, “I’m sorry, Raquel. I thought Sergio already asked you out for the dance.”_

_"Uh,” she stammered, “He didn’t ask me.”_

_“Right.” Diego lowered his gaze and he remained silent, looking for the right words. “Look, I’m sorry. I really wanted to ask you to be my date, but I asked my friend yesterday. I just thought that you were going out with Sergio, and I didn’t want to impose.”_

_Damn. Raquel has been eyeing this guy since the start of senior year, and apparently, she lost her chance with him. This was the danger of being close friends with a guy. Not that she blames Sergio for the boys who are afraid to approach her because of his presence, but everyone is keen on believing that something is going on between the two._

_Raquel assured him, “It’s fine, Diego.”_

_“I’ll see you at prom?” He asked. Raquel nodded. “Save at least one dance for me.”_

_The brunette gave him a sweet smile. It’s better than nothing._

_That night, Sergio wanted to show sympathy at Raquel’s rejected date, but all he could muster was a quiet laugh, to which Raquel glared him at. They were at his bedroom; Raquel paced back and forth in front of the bed where Sergio and his notes sat._

_Raquel pointed a finger at him. “Why. Are. You. Laughing. Sergio. Marquina?”_

_He raised his hands above his head as if being held at gunpoint. “What isn’t funny? You mean, boys refrain from asking you out because of me? It’s not as if I’m going to lure them into a fistfight.”_

_"Yes.” She sighed. “Do you think you’re too overprotective of me?”_

_“Do you think walking around the campus with you is ‘overprotective’?”_

_No, but you’re always with me.” She paused. “But don’t they see that I treat you like a brother? I just don’t understand why people think we’re together.” Raquel ranted on._

_He shrugged and went silent._

_"The dance could’ve been that one perfect night for me and Diego!” She wailed out. “I could have gotten my first kiss then and there! And maybe lose my vir—”_

_"Okay, I get you.” He cut her off, a red tint visible on his face._

_Raquel plopped on the bed, causing a few of his notes to crumple. “Sorry,” she mumbled as she wriggled the notes free from her pining. “Why aren’t you coming to the dance?”_

_"One, I don’t like social events.” He pulled up a finger. Then a second one. “Two, I don’t dance.”_

_"But it’s the school’s last big event before graduation. Aren’t you going to miss your friends?” He squinted his eyes at her. It wasn’t as if he had other friends. Sure, he talked to his classmates and found some of them interesting, but his only constant was Raquel. They entered and will leave high school side-by-side._

_Raquel stood up from his bed and offered him a hand. With her left hand resting on her back, she bowed in front of her confused friend. “Would you do me the honor of this dance, good sir?” She laughed at her own sudden propriety._

_Sergio shook his head, “you know, even you can’t make me dance.” He returned his gaze to his notes and began to read._

_The short girl stacked his notes on top of another and placed it on his bedside table. “The exam is a week away, and you’ve already memorized your lectures. Come on, don’t leave me hanging.” She returned to her previous posture, her right hand extending it in front of Sergio’s face._

_Her friend only stared at her extended hand. “I’m not making a fool of myself,” he said with conviction._

_"I’m teaching you, so you won’t have to be embarrassed while dancing.” She grabbed his left arm and pulled him out of the bed. He towered over her by a few inches, a height gap she always appreciated. They stopped at the center of the room, giving them enough space for their rehearsal._

_"Stop coercing me, I’m the worst dancer there is.” He pleaded._

_She grabbed his right arm and placed it on her waist, “you aren’t. You just don’t have the right teacher for you.” His hands felt stiff and heavy on her side. “Relax,” she said softly._

_"Sorry,” he whispered. She put her right hand on his left shoulder._

_"I’m going to teach you how to waltz, okay?” She moved a little backward and looked at their feet. “When I step my left foot forward, your right foot will move backward.”_

_He laughed nervously, “okay.”_

_They moved as she instructed. “Then you move to your left, and I will follow you.” Raquel gripped his hand tighter as she guided him to her right side. “Now you step your left foot forward, and I’ll move backward.” He did as she commanded. “Then to your right.”_

_""See?” She met his gaze, who was still glued to their feet. “It’s not that hard.”_

_"I barely understood what you were saying.” He answered, “I doubt that I executed it properly.”_

_"Imagine the Waldteufel waltzes you like to listen to and think about their beat," she suggested, not once removing her gaze from him._

_Sergio felt like giving up, but Raquel was persistent. They repeated the same steps over and over again until he felt more confident than he did earlier. Raquel sometimes had to use her fingers to push his chin upward, facing her, but Sergio was keen on keeping his eyes on the ground, silently counting under his breath._

_Hey,” she beseeched for his attention. Her right hand found his jaw and cradled it in her palms. “Look at me.”_

_And he did. Two pairs of hazel eyes meeting together as they moved as one. Even without music they waltzed to the syncopated rhythm of their beating hearts._

_At some point, Raquel stopped the waltz and put his left hand on her waist, mirroring his right. She put both of her hands on his shoulder, slowly dropping down to his collarbones, then down to his chest. Her fingers found the fabric of his shirt amusing as they toyed with the material. “I think this is a dance you’d appreciate far more.” She started swaying them together, slowly moving to the rustle of the leaves outside and the faint sound of vehicles whirring past their house._

_He looked confused, “why?”_

_"You just have to follow the beat of the music and your instincts. Don’t overthink it and your feet will do the job for you.” She explained softly._

_He moved his head back so he could see her better, “it’s hard to do what you’re saying when we don’t have music.” Sergio retorted._

_She moved a little back so she can see his face. "We’ll have music all night at the dance,” she replied. “And food. And punch that is hopefully mixed with alcohol.” She added, as if it were enough to compel him to attend the prom. He still didn’t look interested. “Please, Sergio. You won’t have to interact with other people.”_

_He groaned and shook his head. “I won’t leave your side, I swear!” She promised, “except for one dance with Diego.” Raquel giggled at the thought. “Please, Sergio?”_

_It took him a minute or two and Raquel’s famous pleading look for him to say yes. “Okay.”_

_"Now you go ask me to prom.” She said confidently. It wasn’t apparent if her request was serious, but her smile reached her small eyes. Her two front teeth dug deep on her lower lip as she suppressed a laugh._

_He tipped his head backward in laughter, “what? Oh, I see where you’re going at,” he replied. “Do you want to go to prom with me, Ms. Murillo?”_

_That’s it? No extravagant overhead banner? No flowers and chocolates?” She retracted herself from Sergio’s arms and placed her hands on her hips._

_"I’m sorry.” He said insincerely. “Some girl forced me to go to the dance and is now coercing me to ask her to be my date.” He accusingly looked at her. “I don’t normally carry a box of chocolates in my bag for these kind of stuff.”_

_Their laughter filled the room. “Now that you’re going with me, I’m sure it’ll be fun.”_

_The pain Raquel felt from her quasi-rejection earlier is now overcome with the excitement that her best friend, who was keen on staying at home on the day of the dance ever since it was announced, has now asked her to be his date, albeit forcefully. Her fear that she would sulk at a corner whilst everyone is dancing around her has dissipated. She knows he’d never let her be alone._

* * *

Tokio held out her hand. “Give me your phone.”

“Why?” She withdrew her phone from her purse but stopped before surrendering it to her friend.

“I’m installing Tinder. You ought to find someone in those dating apps.” Tokio replied with a suggestive smile. If there was something that she'd be adept at, her expertise would lie with her advertising skills and matchmaking skills. Leave it to the woman to find her a man who'd be willing to play house with her. 

Raquel questioned her, “don’t you think people would notice if I went on those apps? The press can’t know I’m looking for someone!”

“You’re using a fake name, for one.” Tokio explained, “and you’re an actress. They might think you’re a catfisher.”

Monica’s eyes lit up, “how about Dana?” she suggested. “You’ve always looked like a Dana to me.”

“No, she’s not a Dana,” Tokio snorted. “Are you looking up baby names again, Mon?” The blonde’s eyes widened and shook her head.

The brunette’s cynical mind didn’t back down. “If people think I’m a catfish, then wouldn’t that stop them from--what do you do there? Swiping right?”

“Yes.” Tokio agreed. “But you have better chances there.”

“As opposed to what? A nightclub?”

Tokio glared at her this time, already annoyed. “Just give me the damned phone.”

“Fine.” Raquel pulled out her phone from her purse and reluctantly gave it to her friend. She has a bad feeling about this. They don’t know where Tokio finds her monthly flings, but whatever she has on her sleeve, it will be efficient. Three months ago, it was a guy called Mateo, a director at a business firm in Barcelona. Then the month before that, a man she met during a conference in Italy. And now, she’s consummating every place possible with a boy in his 20s named Rio.

“What’s the password?” Her thoughts were disturbed by Monica’s question, the blonde suddenly scooted over Tokio, who was sharing the phone screen with her.

“0736.” She replied glumly. Raquel did not bother as they tapped the code on the screen.

Tokio mocked her, “Zero-Raquel-Fuentes-Murillo. Really? You’re even worse than my mother when creating passwords.”

“Just do what you need to do,” she huffed, giving them permission to download the damned application on the phone. She turned her interest to the small laminated menu of the café, contemplating whether to buy another strong black coffee to handle the inevitable stress this will bring, or to order a piece of cake to appease her anxiousness. She decided on the latter.

As the waiter she called on left their table as soon as she declared her orders, Tokio’s hysterical laugh caught her attention. “Ha!”

Raquel was startled. “What?”

“We got you a date!” Monica giggled, giving the photographer a high five.

"Why am I not doing the “swiping?””

Tokio and Monica shared a look, “because you won’t open the damn app if we left it to your discretion.” Tokio said matter-of-factly.

Raquel knew they were right. “Who is it?” She asked, already dreading their answer.

Tokio returned the phone to the actress. She faced it to her, the text messaging app already open. It was Sergio and Raquel’s thread of messages. “What did you do?” She glared at her friends, who only started to laugh. Not even an ounce of guilt was found on their faces. She looked down on her phone.

 **“Can we meet on the 12th? The place is your call.”** The message Tokio sent said.

Not even a minute after she sent it, Sergio replied. **“Sure. Hanoi at 2PM?”**

“See? Getting a date is not that hard.” Tokio smirked. She didn’t even know what to say to her friends. Her irritated state remained with her throughout their lunch appointment as she ate her cheesecake in silence. The other two chattered their way through the day, finding a common ground between two differing work fields, advertising and legal assistance.

“Did you even download the app?” Raquel wondered. Her friends’ response was a lighthearted laugh which seemed to shove her further into annoyance.

This was undoubtedly Tokio and Monica’s fault. She was lucky Alicia had her doctor’s appointment that day, or she would have joined in on their “fun”. Raquel would have hated to be annoyed at the mother of her soon to be godson. Monica apologized later that day, explaining that she thought Raquel was just stalling from asking Sergio. Tokio still has not said a word. She doubts she would. 

Raquel was looking out on the window when she heard the door chime ring. It was Sergio. She flashed a nervous smile at him as he walked toward their favorite booth. He returned the favor.

“Hey,” he greeted. Sergio came straight from the University he was teaching in to meet her for lunch. He was in his professor mode, a suit jacket with a crisp shirt underneath, paired with dark pants, and a pair of brown oxford shoes.

She retorted, “Hey yourself.”

“Did you order already?” He turned his head to Marco’s counter.

She nodded, “I got your favorite sandwich and some alcohol.”

“Don’t you think it’s a little too early for drinking?” He asked, skeptical of his friend's nervous demeanor and sudden need for a strong drink.

“With what I’m about to ask you? You wouldn’t mind a bottle of beer or two,” she flinched at her own words, not wanting to give away anything before they've eaten.

“What is it?” He asked, suddenly curious.

She remained silent as he watched her bring out three bags of dried mangoes from the Philippines, a gift certificate from one of his favorite tailor shops, a box of the expensive perfume he religiously used, and a fountain pen with his name etched on it.

“Now I’m really curious. What did you do?”

She raised her hands as if a gun was pointed at her. “I didn’t do anything! I’m just bribing you?” She said her last sentence slowly.

“Are you sure you’re bribing me?” He looked back and forth between the donor and her gifts. 

“Yes.” She deflated.

“What for?”

Raquel hesitated.

"What is it?” His tone was like a parental figure trying to extract what their child was hiding from them. A broken vase? A broken toy? Perhaps a broken computer. In her case, however, the supposed sin was yet to be done.

“I need you to be my partner for the next few months.” She spoke a little too fast; Sergio only caught a word or two in her sentence.

Raquel felt her face flush. She should have thought about this better. She should have canceled their lunch appointment. She should have never opened this to Sergio. But Agata was too pertinent and texted her day and night about her proposal. She wasn’t brave enough to say ‘no’. It’s not as if she had a better idea.

He laughed, not wanting to believe what he just heard. “What?”

“I said,” Raquel spoke more slowly, more confidently. “I need you to be my partner for the next few months.” The actress kept her eyes down at her writhing fingers. Her hands played with the hem of her shirt and her feet tapped impatiently as she waited for a response. “Pretend partner,” she clarified.

He breathed. “We really do need alcohol for this one.”

She let out a breath of relief. At least he didn’t storm out on her. “I’m sorry for dropping all this on you.”

Sergio’s face was filled with delight as he opened a bag of dried mangoes and started to chew on one of its content. “May I ask why you need a fake partner? You don’t need an attention booster.”

“I don’t,” she agreed. “I need a reputation booster.”

She explained her situation to the man in front of her, who eagerly listened while indulging in his bag of sweets. “I forgot to tell you something,” she whispered.

“Hm?”

“I need to be engaged.” He immediately sat up, “You don’t need to propose to me, in the case that you accept this favor, we can just buy a cheap engagement ring or something, I just need a ring to show people.” She rambled on. 

“Fuck.” He cursed lightly.

“I know,” she laughed at her current situation. No turning back now. “Fuck me, alright.”

“Can I think about it first?” He asked.

“Sure. Go ahead. Sorry if I asked you,” she apologized.

He smiled warmly at her, “it’s fine. At least I know you’re comfortable enough to ask me.”

She rolled her eyes, “as if I talk to other men.”

Their food arrived shortly after their conversation. Sergio was weighing the pros and cons of the situation should he agree with Raquel’s request. His forehead crinkled slightly and he frequently stared blankly at a wall. It was his giveaway when he’s deep in thought.

She broke the ice after a few minutes of silence. “You don’t have to tell me your answer today. I just had to tell you because Agata won’t stop bugging me.”

“After your bribery, who am I to say no?” He retorted.

"That’s it?” the actress replied, “you’re just going to say yes? Just like that?” In Sergio's defense, they've always been accused of being together. They spend their weekends together, they're comfortable in each other's constant presence, they know what goes on in most of their lives, if not everything. Truth be told, their platonic relationship is better than most marriages these modern times. What's a pseudo label to brand them with, right? 

Confused, he asked, “would you have preferred that I say no?”

“Yes!” She exclaimed, “no—I don’t want to drag you in all of this, but I had to ask.”

“Then why’d you ask me in the first place?”

She deliberately ignored his question. “I don’t want to go through this ordeal,” she confessed. “I was set on being content with all the slander and avoiding anything that could put the spotlight on me. It’s not as if I’m going to be cast in many films with my age anyway. Hell, I was ready to be a spinster if no one would accept my offer.”

It was true. Being an actress two years shy of her forties, acquiring a lead role for her age is more difficult than it seems. The industry was already competitive on its own, let alone for middle-aged actresses who seem to fight for the next big thing on screen.

“But I said yes. It’s your call now, Raquel.” He said, grabbing his drink. “What will be your verdict, Inspectora?”

She remembered the crumpled paper towel sitting inside her purse. She might have had an initial list of why pretending to be engaged to Sergio would be a disaster, but she knew that the reasons why Sergio would be perfect for this role outnumbered the former. The first one being he was her best friend. If she was going to play house with someone, it might as well be with someone who knew the real her. Their relationship might be pretend, but that doesn’t mean she had to.

She went silent for a minute. “Let’s do this.” Raquel announced.

He huffed out, “okay. How are we going to do this?” Sergio went on his professor mode.

Raquel stared at him. “Sorry, I didn’t know you’d agree, so I haven’t really thought of anything.”

“How about we discuss the terms?” He suggested.

She cracked a laugh, “are you really treating this like a business proposal?”

He ignored her, “do I have to go with you in your movie premieres? Interviews?”

“Not all of them,” she contemplated. “And not right away. It might raise suspicion if I suddenly have a fiancé in my interviews and stuff.” She stopped. “Wow, fiancé. That’s a weird way to refer to you.”

He pretended to be disgusted by it. “And how are we going to be seen together? I’m not active on social media.”

“I could post photos of us together.” She suggested. “We can go on “dates” in a place where the media can see us and start their speculations?”

“You’re paying, alright.”

“Damn right, I will. I dragged you into this mess.” Raquel placed her face in her hands, already dreading imminent consequences of her action. 

"Maybe it won’t be?” He gave her a comforting smile that ran shivers through her spine. He really wanted to help her. God, she didn’t deserve this man.

“Okay,” she straightened up. “Agata wants our first “appearance” to be in two weeks. You up for that?”

“For you? Always.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: mentions/implications of sexual harassment in the "article".

**_A Woman in a Man’s World_ **

_Susana Peña for Telva Women's Magazine | March 28, 2019_

_“It’s a man’s world,” they say, but it certainly would be nothing without a woman. This month, we celebrate the international women’s month. A month where we paint the town pink and violet to raise awareness against gender discrimination, misogyny, and violence against women. In this month’s issue, Telva interviewed one of the most vocal actresses in the industry, Raquel Murillo._

_**HOW IS IT BEING A WOMAN WORKING IN A MAN’S PLAYGROUND?** _

_Honestly, working with more men or more women does not make much of a difference. In the industry, you have to be professional—and before recording starts we spend a lot of time in and out of the set so we become comfortable with each other. I do believe, however, that we need more women in production, writers, directors, producers._

_**ARE THERE ANY DISCRIMINATION WITH ACTORS AND ACTRESSES?** _

_Of course, there is. There will always be discrimination against women in every industry, in every sector, women have always been seen as the inferior sex. In intimate scenes, it is always the actress who will be talked about, whether it be a praise or a critique, not the actor. I have heard cases about women earning a lower salary than men, even in the film industry._

_**WOULD YOU THINK THE INDUSTRY WOULD FLOURISH IF WE HAD MORE WOMEN IN PRODUCTION?** _

_It amuses me how we are surrounded by films that empower women, and yet, most of the time, the material is made and done by men. Sometimes we may not notice it, but even in those films, the cinematography still objectifies women, with a shot in the bust or their backside. And we don’t question it. We just take it in passing and accept it as a part of the system._

_A woman’s perception can never and will never be understood by men, that’s why we are advocating for more women to join the film industry. If women wrote stories—narratives for women, and be the ones creating it, I believe we would harbor an empowering and greatly supportive production team._

_They say that women are very emotional human beings, but I believe we can find strength in being “emotional” per se. We do need an environment where we are both professional and lenient toward all members of the team, which I can say, unfortunately, rarely happens in men dominated sets._

_**WHAT WOULD YOU SAY TO WOMEN WHO ARE STILL TRYING TO FIND THEIR VOICES?** _

_It may and will be hard at first, but we have to speak up. Most cases are buried because the survivor did not speak out. That’s where the problem starts: when we brush off even the littlest sexual remarks by a co-worker, a classmate, or even a relative. The pursuit of equality is still a long and winding journey, but it’s time to stand up. Let them know we’re uncomfortable. Let them know that we refuse to be reduced down to an object in their world. For those who are still finding their voices, take your time, and know that your fellow women are ready to back you up._

Agata’s plan was almost set into action. The talent agent had already reserved a table at one of the high-end restaurants in central Madrid. The contact numbers of the paparazzi are already saved in her phone, all ready to be dialed the moment Sergio and Raquel enter the restaurant. The only thing unprepared were the actors.

Raquel was busy picking between two dresses when her phone rang. 

She glanced at her phone from where she was standing, “Sergio Marquina would like FaceTime…” Raquel placed the two articles of clothing on the side of her bed and answered the ringing device.

Sergio appeared, wearing a smile on his face and what seemed to be his buttoned up pajamas. “ _Hola._ ” His face was illuminated by his phone reflection.

“ _Hola,_ ” she replied. “Ready for tomorrow?”

He nodded. “And you?”

“Not entirely,” she said. She flipped her camera and showed him the two dresses that lay on the bed. One is a white floral-patterned sundress with a ¾ sleeve and lace on the hem. The other was a plain earth-toned short-sleeved dress that would hug her torso as it flares from the hips down to her knees. “Would you like to help me?”

“Zipping you up tomorrow?” Raquel doesn’t know if he just slipped in a sexual innuendo or if he’s just plain innocent.

“No, you pervert.” She chastised him. “I can’t pick a dress.” 

“I think the white one would look good on you.” He said after a minute.

Her eyes shot back at him, “really?”

“Sure, you do.”

“Okay.” Raquel hung the dress on the knob of her dresser. “Why did you call?”

“We just need to set the parameters for the our little operation.” He started, “not that I’m not comfortable with you, but not creating borders might be subject to a dangerous relationship.”

“You’re right.” She agreed, “how do you want to do this? Do you want to draft a contract or agreement?” She motioned to retrieve a notepad and pen from her bedside table.

He chortled, “no need. I just need to lay down my do’s and don’ts for the next few months, okay?”

“Sure,” Raquel grinned. “what do you have?”

His face turned serious, “one, I cannot sacrifice my classes for an event of yours.” Sergio's teaching and administrative position allowed him less units than most of his colleagues, but his scheduled was as packed as hers, which only allowed him a few days of solitary from the University.

“You’re not obligated to turn up to every event of mine, Sergio.” The actress reassures him. “I know how much you avoid the limelight.” Not once was Sergio seen in the media. Sure, he was seen with her now and then, but he remained in the background most of the time, the paparazzi didn’t seem to find him interesting enough to prey on their friendship.

“Two,” he continued. “If you need me to make an appearance you have to tell me a week before.” Sergio’s load can get really heavy especially during midterms and finals. There was even a time when Raquel couldn’t reach Sergio for a few days due to his conferences, lectures, and other work in the academe.

“Of course. I’m not expecting you to drop your work for me.” She smiled sweetly.

His stern look softened. “That’s all for me.” He paused, “do you have anything?”

“I might,” she pursed her lips, looking for a way to ease her next words into him, “have to hold your hand or kiss your cheek.” She paused. “Please don’t shy away.”

She didn’t understand his reaction from her phone screen. “Right. Other forms of display, however, should be properly consented by the two of us.”

She nodded hastily. “Right. And I think it’s safe to ask that we shouldn’t meet up with other people while doing this ordeal?” He looked at her as if she were going crazy. Sergio was not in the correct headspace nor proper emotional availability to date another person. If it wasn’t Raquel asking, he wouldn’t have agreed to do this in the first place.

“You do realize that “dating” is not my thing, right?” He asked, adjusting his glass to get a better look at his soon pretend fiancée.

Raquel smiled at his statement. “So," she shifted the subject, "where do you want to meet up tomorrow?”

“I’ll drive by your flat before lunch?” He suggested.

“Okay.”

“Are you nervous?”

She shook her head, “thank you for doing this, Sergio.” 

“You don’t have to keep thanking me.”

The two stared at each other with grins on their faces, the other one giving a grateful smile, and the other offering a comforting one. Neither one wanted to end the call as they quietly basked in the comfortable silence brought upon by their matched breathing. They stayed like that for a few more minutes before Sergio muttered an inaudible “good night”.

Neither of them knew that their goodbyes are the death of an era, and tomorrow will be the birth of a new one.

* * *

_Raquel sighed as she plopped on Sergio’s bed. She silently stared at her best friend as he carefully retrieved his shirts from his wardrobe. An empty suitcase remained open as it waited for the owner to fill it with clothes. Six large boxes containing his belongings are already huddled in the corner near his closet. His bedroom already looked bare save for a few of his books and a framed picture of Raquel and Sergio resting on the bedside table._

_Sergio wasn’t a procrastinator at the very least, but he dreader the day he had to pack his suitcases for medical school. It was the final nail in the coffin, he decided. Raquel and Sergio had plans to finish their post-graduate studies in the country; she would have to move to Avila, and he would have to stay in Madrid, but the drive from each other wouldn’t last longer than 2 hours. It was a sacrifice both were willing to make to keep in contact._

_Everything was set. Until six months before their plan, Sergio received a letter from abroad. He was accepted to Yale. An opportunity as big as that was hard to decline. Raquel didn’t even try to convince him to stay. She knew she simply didn’t hold enough power over him to do so._

_So, here she was, silently drinking in her surroundings, including the man who was quietly packing his last set of clothes in his luggage. It would be a while until she next sees this place._ _Little to no words are exchanged between the two friends. They had to detach from each other somehow._

_Sergio would be leaving tomorrow morning._

_"You’re doing it wrong.” Raquel softly pointed out his bag-packing strategy. “You’re using up all the space.” He gave her the shirt and carefully listened as she instructed him how to properly fold the article of clothing._

_He muttered, “thanks.” Sergio continued to fold the remaining long sleeved shirts and pants in silence. He was slower than usual, his dread evident in his actions._

_As her childhood friend was quietly tending to his belongings, Raquel memorized the layout of his bedroom. White walls with a grey accent color were painted on the walls. His closet was pushed against his bedroom wall, right next to the mahogany door. Ash colored curtains are draped against the window, blocking the harsh sunlight from penetrating into the room. Raquel caught eye of a worn-out black box on top of his shelf. “What’s that?” She turned to the direction of the item._

_Sergio stood up from his bed and effortlessly reached for it. “It’s a memory box my mother made me before I moved out for college.” He explained, “it’s got pictures of us.”_

_She gratefully took the box as he extended it toward her. The box contained pictures of them as children, from their spy adventures to their little Halloween parties. There was one where Raquel was dressed as a princess, while Sergio was dressed as a scientist. They don’t mix, but they sure make a good pair. Raquel picked up a picture of them in the homecoming dance, she was wearing a forest green sleeveless gown that flowed from her hips to the ground. He was wearing a tie of the same color._

_She smiled at the photographs in her hand. “I remember this photo,” referring to a photo of Sergio and Raquel all wet and covered in mud._

_He beamed at the memory. "That was your 17th birthday.” He responded._

_She nodded. “You chased me off at my backyard! You’re lucky the guy I was crushing on didn’t see me, or else I would have blamed you for the embarrassment.”_

_"Who was it again? Danilo? Daniel?” He teased._

_She recalled,"it was Diego!”_

_"Alzate? You had fun though.” He amended._

_"I did.” She reminisced. “It was the first time my family surprised me on my birthday.”_

_"You can keep the photo if you want.” He offered._

_She grinned at him and placed it on her side, separating it from its previous set. “Thank you.”_

_Raquel reviewed the other photos, scourging through them one by one and revisiting the memories captured by the pictures. A photo of Sergio and his dad. A picture of Andres and Sergio, his brother smiling cunningly at the camera. Another was taken during his awarding ceremony for a science exhibit in their alma mater. She stopped at a photograph of the two of them. A candid shot: he was clearly irritated at the person who was taking the picture, while she was looking at him adoringly. She remembered it to be their secondary graduation with the way they were both dressed formally._

_She raised the picture to his face, “would you mind if I also took this photo?”_

_"Sure.” He answered. Raquel put the other contents back to its former home and placed the box on his bedside table._

_“Do you really have to go tomorrow?” Her voice was barely audible as if it hurt her to speak out loud._

_His eyes met hers. What was in it? Fear? Regret? Second thoughts? “I can’t reschedule my flight on such short notice.”_

_She nodded in defeat. “Okay.” Raquel understood. She really did. They've dreamt of this together. She, an inspector, or a detective, or a commissioner. Whatever role she lands in the national police force, it wouldn't matter. He visualized himself teaching in the academe about the human anatomy and physiology. They're still reaching that dream together, just not physically side-by-side. Raquel willed herself to understand that his goals are bigger than her, and if she had to, she'd force him to reach it, even if that meant having him in the other side of the world._

_“Okay,” he echoed._

_She threw himself at him, almost pushing them both in his bed. Her eyes gave out the tears she was holding back. Muffled sobs escaped from her tiny mouth, producing a jagged sound that threatens to claw out from her throat. Sergio held Raquel in his arms as she shook lightly, the gravity of his departure finally dawning in on her. "_ _I’m going to fucking miss you,” she muttered against his shoulder._

_He held her tighter against his chest, burying his nose in her hair, slowly drinking her scent in. "I will too, Raquel.”_

_"Write to me. Or text me. I’ll save up for a phone—it doesn’t matter if it’s expensive. Or I’ll call you. You have to give me your number as soon as you arrive in Connecticut.” She pleaded. Raquel moved backward to look for any response. All she received was a fake smile._

_"Don’t ramble, Raquel. We’ll be fine.” Sergio reached out to wipe the stray tear rolling down her cheek, then his palm settled at her jaw, nestling it gently. Slowly, he drew his face closer to hers. His eyes never lost contact with hers._

_A beat passes._

_One._

_Two._

_Three._

_Sergio halted, doubting what he was about to do. He was about to break the trance when Raquel clumsily placed her lips on his. The kiss was uncharted territory for them, yet neither felt shy nor hesitant. If this was the only time they have, then so be it. Despite their imminent separation, nothing felt rushed; all repressed emotions from their friendship are translated into their actions. Sergio was leaving in the morning, yet in her arms, he was already home._

_Raquel softly pulled him on top of her, never breaking their kiss. As she settled underneath him, her hands traveled everywhere. His hair, his jaw, his neck. His shoulders, his arms, his chest._

_Sergio suddenly stopped. “We can’t.” He said with a panted breath._

_Her eyebrows were sewn together, “if this is all we have—” Raquel tried to reach his shirt lapels once again, but he pulled away._

_"Don’t do this.” He pleaded. “It will be years when we next see each other. Don’t do this to us.” Tears were forming in his eyes. Frustration and anger crept in both of their bodies. Frustrated that the only chance to enact on their suppressed feelings will only end up hurting them both. Anger that neither of them was brave enough to pursue them when they had time._

_"I know.” She whispered in defeat. Her forehead dropped to his shoulder; a gesture of surrender.“Sorry.”_

_Yet despite the tension between them, he asked her to stay the night._

_“Don’t turn away, Orpheus,” she requested, her voice light and dreamy, already half engulfed in sleep. And so, they remained that way, entangled in each other’s embraces for the last time, their thoughts clouded with missed opportunities and what ifs._

_The clock’s tick seemed to be the only noise between them. Sergio willed time to slow down. It didn’t._

_Silence befalls them in the morning. No words were exchanged as the two friends prepared for the day. Sergio prepared the coffee as Raquel took a shower. Raquel made toast and eggs as Sergio packed his final belongings in his carry-on luggage. Both deliberately avoided each other. They are in some sort of thin ice, and every burning interaction would crack the wall they've put up for the past night. Now is not the time to break down their defenses. They would both lose._

_The moments passed by in a blur. Her head was light, and her thoughts were empty. The next thing Raquel knew, his luggage was already on the front porch of his apartment. Sergio was on the sidewalk, trying to halt a cab. He was slightly enraged at the lack of vehicles passing by his street. It wasn't usually this scarce, and the shortage doesn't usually piss Sergio off, but he only had 4 hours left before his flight, and he didn't trust the Madrid traffic to let him pass through in time._

_Raquel silently wished for five more minutes. Or less. Anything to keep him longer. She cursed in her head as she noticed the cab approaching them seemed to be empty. She helped him load the light-weighted boxes. When the last of his belongings were deposited in the cab's compartment, Raquel saw Sergio talk to the driver through the window, and turned to her._

_She felt him reach out to her wrists; he tugged them as he willed her to look at him. Raquel reluctantly did, knowing that this would be the last time she’d be able to. No tears, were present in his eyes, unlike hers. Instead, it was already full of longing, brimming with the promise of homecoming. He'd always come home to her. Sergio softly opened her palms and placed something in them, a thin chain and a bristled pendant.The next thing she knew, his lips were on hers, savoring their final moment together. Neither moved, not wanting to make it more difficult for when the other should leave. It felt too short, but Raquel had to pull away. Nothing’s enough for them now._

_He took her in his embrace. “Take care. Don’t be a stranger.” She whispered against his neck._

_"I’ll see you soon.” He promised. Then he embarked on the vehicle._

_Raquel closed her eyes as she heard the cab moved past her. She won’t see him leave. Raquel clutched the two photographs tightly and caught sight of the thin chain with a tiny sun pendant hanging in the middle she cradled in her palms. She put it on her neck, admired it, and started to walk away from his old home._

* * *

Raquel waited impatiently as she sat cross-legged on her black velvet couch, her nails sinking into her palms. _“The date is not real,”_ Raquel repeated the mantra to herself. She couldn’t fathom why she was acting all nervous, after all, she’s had her fair share of terrible first dates. 

There was Juan who she met during her freshman year in college. The raunchy jock was in her language class. He invited her to a house party where the boy got so drunk, Raquel had to leave the venue alone. They weren’t even able to talk properly: as soon as the pair turned up to the place, Juan hosed down every alcoholic beverage he gets his hands on down his throat and left her to her own devices.

Then there was Joaquin, who asked her for dinner at a retro-themed diner in downtown Madrid. He was a sweet guy until he practically begged her to kiss him on the way back to her dormitory. She pushed him off her and hailed a cab. Joaquin apologized the next time he saw her, but she avoided him afterward and threatened to report him to the university’s Office of Anti-Sexual Harassment if she hears from him again.

Then came Santiago. A strutting, handsome man she met at her internship at a psychiatric clinic. Unfortunately, that’s all she can say about him—and that’s after he talked about himself for an hour and a half non-stop. She had to make an excuse that her cousin was hospitalized, and she had to go. Raquel never contacted him again.

So, amid her waiting, Raquel does not understand how she can’t shake off the uneasy feeling off her. The actress repeated her mantra three more times before was pulled to reality by the resounding doorbell which echoed throughout her unit. Her date was here. Raquel glanced at the mirror one last time, checking out her appearance. She flattened the slightly wrinkled material of her dress, fixed the stray strands of hair that fell on her face, and grabbed her black purse before heading out.

Sergio was leaning in his black Sedan when she opened her front door. “Hey,” she called.

A shy, yet confident grin crept on his face. “Hello.”

She raised her eyebrows at him. “You look dapper.” Sergio was wearing a powder blue long-sleeved polo that was carefully folded to his elbows, his hair was fixed in place as opposed to its usual disheveled form. A suit jacket hung lazily on his shoulder as it hooked on his finger. She thought of how many times he probably rehearsed the posture and smiled inwardly. 

His grin grew wider at her compliment, “and you look beautiful. Ready?”

She drew a deep breath, “as I’ll ever be.”

Raquel glared at Sergio as he opened the passenger door for her. She entered gratefully and drew another sharp breath as he closed the door. There was no need to be nervous. This was Sergio, after all.

“Agata made a reservation under your name at the restaurant,” Raquel informed her date as Sergio started the ignition.

He nodded. “Until what time did she ask for us to stay?”

“15:30,” she replied. “That’s enough time for the media to grab some pictures, don’t you think?”

He nodded and kept his eyes on the road. It was a rather good 20-minute drive from her apartment. “I’ll have to get cozy next to you, okay?” Raquel reminded him.

He glanced at her anxiously, “how cozy is cozy?”

Raquel winced slightly, “hand-holding and nuzzling?” She heard him grumble lightly. “What? I thought you’re comfortable with me?”

“I am!” Sergio defended himself, “it just feels weird to do it in public.”

“Let’s rehearse then.” The actress declared.

Sergio hit the brakes a little too hard as he came across a streetlight. “Excuse me, what?”

Raquel nudged him, “Come on. I’ll have to take a picture of us so I can post something later on Instagram.” She turned herself to face him and gave him a look that even Sergio couldn’t refuse.

He gave her a side look. “No faces.” He negotiated.

“Fine,” she conceded.

His right hand left the steering wheel and reached to her hand resting on her thigh. She was expecting it to be cold like his current demeanor, but it was the exact opposite. It was warm, like a bright afternoon in Barcelona. Like a ray of sun that engulfs you as you wake up in the morning. She looked at him to see if he felt it too, but his eyes were focused on driving. Slowly, she laced her fingers with his, resting her thumb on top of his.

She took her phone out and captured the photo as promised. The shutter sound startled them both. She muttered a “sorry” combined with her soft laugh. Raquel expected him to retrieve his hand, but it remained intertwined with hers for the rest of the drive. At least one part of him has finally found its way back home.

Raquel stood firm beside him as they walked inside the restaurant. The place took pride in its three Michelin star rating—the interior alone was enough proof; their tables and chairs were crafted from delicately carved woodwork. A modern crystal chandelier hung overhead, which produced a glint and flare to anyone who looked at it directly. A four-piece fold band is placed at a corner, allowing their music to set the atmosphere for the restaurant. The place was packed—even for lunchtime.

As soon as Sergio declared their reservation to the maître d’, an usherette led them to their table—a booth propped against a window.

“Don’t look too stiff,” Raquel whispered as she grabbed Sergio’s hand. “It’s just me.”

“I’m not an actor, Raquel,” he whispered back. “You are.”

“Come on," The actress eased in as they sat in front of each other. Raquel wasted no time in getting into character; her body shifted toward him, angling her should upward as she leaned her cheek on her propped arm. She sat cross-legged, while trying to refrain from playing footsie with her date. "We need to loosen your muscles up. Tell me how we met.” She suggested.

Sergio didn’t even waste a minute to think. “We met during a murder investigation in our village when we were ten.”

Raquel smiled at the memory. “No, not that.” She pointed at him, then to herself. “Us.”

“Oh. You mean us.” She nodded. “I suppose we could use the story that we met as kids to not raise suspicion.”

Raquel agreed, “how about this, we met again after years of not talking and you asked me out for coffee.”

Sergio decided to humor her. “That’s too simple. I secretly visit you here in Madrid for my conventions before I go home to Barcelona.”

“That’s absurd.” She cackled. “And a secret relationship? What are you? An agent of some sort?”

“Okay. We’re sticking with your coffee date suggestion. We’ve been dating for a year now, but we wanted to keep our privacy. Now we’re going more public, just in time for the media to not raise suspicion when I finally propose to you.”

Raquel still didn’t seem keen on the idea of being engaged once more, not even with Sergio kneeling on one knee and offering her a ring. She decided it was a topic for another day. “And how would you have lured me into dating you, señor?”

He looked abashed. “You don’t suppose my charms and intelligence are enough to lure you in, Señora?”

“I’m more than a “looks” person.” Raquel feigned thought, “I don’t go falling in love with people with just looks.”

“Then I will take pride in luring you with my wit and good taste in alcohol,” Sergio announced; a beam of pride visible on his face.

“Oh. Definitely. One day, you’ll find that whiskey bottle gone.” She complied. “And I suppose I would have lured you in with my looks and skills?”

“Skills in what?” His eyebrow shot up.

“I don’t know,” she teased. “Probably in bed or something.” She said nonchalantly, twirled a lock of hair in her finger flirtatiously.

A hot, red flush appeared on Sergio’s face, coloring it with a tint only a few shades lighter than Raquel’s lip color. “What?” He choked out the words.

“I’m messing with you. You’re too tense.” She laughed at his sudden change of demeanor. His back straightened and his face devoid of emotions.

“You did a good job of making it worse.” Sergio deadpanned.

Raquel decided to give her date a rest and moved her interest toward the menu sitting in front of her. Agata went all out, she decided. The wine alone would cost her about seven orders of her favorite paella dish in a café near her complex. The scent that permeated through the air, however, made it worth the money you will spend on their food and drink.

“Hey,” she called his attention. “Do you want to get an oven-roasted pigeon, pain d’épices, beetroot, and shallot marmalade?” Raquel feigned a not so perfect accent, shifting from Italian to French and back.

Sergio winced as he saw the price of the meal, “are you sure you want to eat here?”

Raquel shrugged. “Sure, I heard the food is good. And we get free wine after we order. Why? Do you want to get something else?” She dropped the menu and turned her attention to the man in front of her.

“This place is not exactly ‘us’.” It was true. In the entirety of their friendship, they have never experienced fine dining together, save the few fancy dinners Sergio had with Raquel's family.

“Oh, really?” She propped her elbows on the table and rested her chin in her intertwined fingers, “And what exactly is ‘us’?” Raquel said it with such a flirtatious tone, it sent shivers to Sergio's spine.

He recalled in a low voice, mirroring hers. “If it were up to us, our date would be movie night, take out, and wine.” 

“We just did that weeks ago.” The actress pointed out, returning to her friendly tone. “Besides, we need to be seen.”

“I know.” He returned to reading the menu on his hand, looking for a cheaper alternative to the meal Raquel suggested earlier.

She looked around the restaurant for any sign of attention harbored toward them. Everyone seemed to be locked away to their own devices. No signs of camera. No signs of movement similar to the paparazzi. “Come on, we’re leaving,” she decided. They wouldn’t be seen inside the restaurant. Raquel had better chances outside.

“What?” He asked, startled from his date's sudden change of mind.

“I saw a diner a block away, we’ll just eat there.” She gathered her purse and stood up.

He did not nudge. “Your manager made the reservati—"

“And?” She cut him off. “We’re doing this on my terms anyway.”

Sergio didn’t have the heart to protest her. Raquel pulled him from his seat and started to move toward the door. She ducked her head and hid it using her purse. Sergio followed suit and used his jacket to cover himself. They moved as if they were escaping from a villain who was trying to get them assassinated. Sergio started to hum a melody from an action movie near her ear. Without breaking contact, Raquel elbowed him lightly on the side.

The two avoided any eye contact from any of the personnel in the restaurant. She was certain that their service deserved that three Michelin star they proudly presented on the wall, but they didn’t fit in. Sure, they were dressed for the place, but it wasn’t them. They may be in a faux relationship, but that didn’t mean they had to be pretentious.

With a laughter, they escaped the restaurant. Their backs are against each other, a reflection of the secret agent movies Raquel loved watching growing up. They left their car in front of the building, deciding they’d come back for it later. Side-by-side they walked together, an activity both mastered throughout the years. Knowing looks are on the faces of the people they passed by, but neither seemed to care.

At the faint sound of a camera shutter, Raquel grinned at her date. He remained slightly uncomfortable, but the melody of her laughter calmed him down. Slowly, his doubts dissipated, and his confidence grew. He was doing this for his best friend after all.

His fingers itched to reach out to hers. “Hey,” Sergio nudged her arm, “hold my hand.” He requested.

Without a second thought, she did; and soon, she'd wonder why it took years for his hand to find hers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all of your lovely comments! I really don't have the time to respond to them, but I really appreciate each and every one of it. I have also decided to try and update every Monday and Thursday, to train myself to write with a certain time frame. I'll see you then! -k


	5. Chapter 5

**_Chapter 5: The_ _First Month Approximately 1 to 4 Weeks_ **

**_Congratulations and welcome to your pregnancy!_ **

_Though you almost certainly don't look pregnant yet, chances are you're already starting to feel it. Whether it's just tender breasts and a little fatigue you're experiencing, or every early pregnancy symptom in the book (and then some), your body is gearing up for the months of baby-making to come._

_As the weeks pass, you'll notice changes in parts of your body you'd expect (like your belly), as well as places you wouldn't expect (your feet and your eyes). You'll also notice changes in the way you live-and look at-life. But try not to think (or read) too far ahead. For now, just sit back, relax, and enjoy the beginning of one of the most exciting and rewarding adventures of your life._

**_What You Can Expect at Your First Prenatal Visit_ **

_Your first prenatal visit will probably be the longest you'll have during your pregnancy, and definitely will be the most comprehensive one. Not only will there be more tests, procedures (including several that will be performed only at this visit), and data gathering (in the form of a complete medical history), but there will be more time spent on questions (questions you have for the practitioner, questions he or she will have for you) and answers._

_There will also be plenty of advice to take in-on everything from what you should be eating (and not eating) to what supplements you should be taking to whether (and how) you should be exercising. So be sure to come equipped with a list of the questions and concerns that have already come up, as well as with a pen and notebook (or What to Expect When You're Expecting Pregnancy Organizer) to take notes with._

_One practitioner's routine may vary slightly from another's. In general, the examination will include: Confirmation of your pregnancy. Your practitioner will want to check the following: the pregnancy symptoms you are experiencing; the date of your last normal menstrual period to determine your estimated date of delivery (EDD) or due date (see page 8); your cervix and uterus for signs and approximate age of the pregnancy. A pregnancy test (urine and blood) will most likely be ordered. A complete history. To give you the best care possible, your practitioner will want to know a great deal about you—_

_—What to Expect When You’re Expecting, Heide E. Murkoff_

* * *

Raquel religiously sipped on her wine as she drank in every word from the book she was reading. It was far from the noir books or contemporary novels she read in her free time. In her hands was a pregnancy guide. God forbid anyone outside her apartment saw what she was holding, she didn’t need any more people prying in on her private life. She wasn’t pregnant nor is she planning to be any time soon, but she had to make sure she was ready to meet her godson.

The sound of her doorbell echoing in her living room dismantled her thoughts. She quickly shuffled the book closed then hid it under a pillow on the couch. “Who is it?” She called out.

“It’s Agata!” said the voice from the other side of her door. Shit. Raquel did not tell her manager about her and Sergio’s little escapade out of the restaurant Agata reserved for them. The actress managed to sip in the final contents of her wine and headed to the door.

“What are you doing here?” Raquel deadpanned.

Agata did not wait to be let in before she went in through the door. “Dropping off new material.” The taller woman shoved a thick brown envelope toward the actress before placing the coffee on the table in her living room. Raquel reached for it. “No, you don’t get coffee.” Agata reprimanded. “After you bailed on Paradiso last minute?”

The actress decided to play innocent, “I did?”

Her agent only glared at her. “Oh, don’t play coy with me, Raquel. I know what you two little lovebirds did,” she wiggled her index finger at her client for emphasis. “I pulled up some strings to make that reservation in the last minute, mind you.”

Raquel wanted to rebut that she didn’t have to reserve anything for them, let alone in a high-end restaurant, but she decided against it. Instead, she fixed her gaze to the ground and said, “I am unable to make any justifications for my case, Your Honor.”

“Case closed.” Agata huffed. “You’re paying me back that reservation fee.”

Raquel stood up from her couch to fix herself a cup of coffee. “I thought this was already coming from my pockets?”

“Good point. I’ll put that in addition to my salary instead.” Agata amended. “God knows how much we’re underpaid.”

The actress removed the teaspoon that was settled between her lips and pointed it at her manager, “that we can both agree on.”

“Anyway,” Agata started, “give Sergio my regards. He seemed to have done a good job last week.” He did, Raquel decided. After their escape from _Paradiso_ , the two of them decided to head over to a pub diner a block away. The place was packed, given the time, but they managed to find a seat near the counter. No one paid that much attention, save for the few people that recognized her. What caught the public’s attention, however, was the photograph of their adjoined hands during their drive to the restaurant Raquel posted on Instagram the night after their “date”. Thousands of comments were posted underneath the picture within a matter of minutes. 

“I steered off social media for the past week.” Raquel poured the contents of the coffee maker to her mug, “Have you read anything?”

“Not anything brutal, no.” Agata furrowed her eyebrows. “But if there were mentions of your ex-husband in an article that was supposed to about your projects, I don’t reckon it’s impossible for his name to pop up anytime soon, now that you have a man by your side. For the first few appearances, that is.”

Raquel brought her mug with her as she carefully walked back to her original place on the couch, “I know. It’s nothing I haven’t heard of anyways. It’s not the media we’re trying to appease, it’s the producers.”

Agata nodded, “we’ll just have to wait for the waters to calm down.”

The actress held up the brown envelope sitting on her table, “what’s this for, anyway?”

Her agent couldn’t help the grin that slowly painted her face, “something to brighten up your mood. Open it.” She urged.

With a cocked eyebrow, Raquel suspiciously unraveled the envelope. A screenplay. She opened it a little bit wider to examine its content. Three Lives Left. “I thought the producers--?” She trailed off.

“As I told you, the director wants you.” Agata pointed out. “It’s the producers that need the pleasing. You’re scheduled for a reading in three weeks. You’ll have enough time to read through and rehearse the material.”

Raquel felt like a kid on Christmas morn, waiting for her parents to wake up so she can finally open the presents stacked under the tree. “Thank you!” She moved to hug her agent.

As if on cue, the voice of Enrique Iglesias blasted from her phone. Embarrassed with Agata's snicker, the actress craned her head to check who the caller was. Tokio. “Hold on,” she said to her manager.

“Where are you?” Tokio’s voice greeted her as she answered the call.

“Home.” She glanced at her wall clock, “why? It’s too early for a drink.”

“Your godson’s head is already peeping from her mother’s uterus.” Right. Alicia went into labor this morning. “She’s in the delivery room.”

“What? Now?” She eyed her manager beside her who seemed to busy with her phone, “Should I be going?”

“Yes,” Tokio answered calmly. “Nothing’s happened yet, I just need company.”

Raquel could only hope Tokio could see her eye roll. “Call Monica.”

Tokio huffed. “She’s still waiting for Denver.”

“Fine. I’ll head out soon.” Raquel gave in.

“Good. Bring me a snack, will you?” Tokio hung up before Raquel was able to protest.

The actress apologetically looked at her manager, who seemed to get the message that Raquel’s leaving the house. “My friend is giving birth, and my other friend is nagging to give her company.” She explained. “I’m kicking the both of us out.”

“Do you need a ride?” Agata offered, already fishing out her keys from her Kate Spade handbag.

Raquel ran upstairs to her bedroom to grab an ash-colored knitted sweater to put over her black tank top. “Do you mind?” She called out. Agata did not answer. She was, however, impatiently waiting by the door when Raquel emerged from her room.

“One last thing.” She headed to the kitchen and grabbed two packs of protein bars for Tokio to munch on. Her friend did not have any requests; thus, she had no right to complain about whatever she will be receiving.

The ride to the hospital was quiet, but the woman on the passenger seat was full of anticipation. Raquel felt slightly bad for not being there for Monica when Cincinnati was born. She was in Peru, taping for a film, and the couple was in Indonesia when she gave birth. Now that the couple has settled back in Madrid, and the four of them were in the same city, all of them were hands-on in Alicia’s pregnancy, to German’s relief. Alicia could really be a handful when her hormones are at an all-time high.

Raquel could already see the hospital from her seat. “Thank you so much, Agata,” she started her parting words, “I’ll read through the script later.” 

“You better.” Agata pulled the car into a halt. “Don’t forget that fundraising event you need to confirm your attendance in.”

“Got it.” Raquel removed her seatbelt and gathered her belongings.

“Get a secretary. It’s not my job to remind you of your extra-curricular activities.”

Raquel raised her eyebrow. “It’s not?” She opened her door and stepped outside the hospital. The anti-septic scent already permeated into the actress' nose. “Thanks again!” She closed the door with a mischievous smile and made her way to the door.

* * *

_Raquel’s eyes were strained after about three hours of reading—or attempting to—her lectures on Sigmund Freud, Michel Foucault, and Hannah Arendt. Words and letter seem to float in her vision, rendering her dizzy and lightheaded. Her temples are cradled in her hands as she gradually closed her eyes, hoping it will gain back some of the energy she is slowly losing._ _It’s also not helping that her roommate is singing a pop song from the bathroom as she’s getting ready to join what seems to be another party. Sometimes, she wishes that she’d be locked away in a monastery, sworn into silence. At least there, she’d be able to find peace of mind and quiet. It’s something Raquel sorely needs._

_You see, it’s Friday night and the last one before the school year ends. Unfortunately for Raquel, it’s a Friday night and she’s poring over her notes for their final exam the week after. Regret seeped in her system as she grudgingly listened to her roommate get ready for her imminent departure._

_"Over21?” Raquel asked Lauren, her roommate, as she went out of the bathroom wearing a shiny halter top paired with shorts._

_"No. Trying out a new bar uptown.” She replied, “you going out with nerd boy?”_

_Raquel pretended to be oblivious, “Who?”_

_"Nerd boy,” Lauren repeated. “The guy you’re always with?”_

_"Oh. Sergio?” She finally looked up from the sea of lectures on her table. Lauren hummed a sound of acknowledgment. “You’re never really going to call him by his name, huh?”_

_"Nope. Stop trying to make me. He’s fine with it, we had an agreement.” She explained. Her roommate and Sergio had a weird relationship, to say the least. Sergio felt uncomfortable in her presence, but she found him very interesting. Most of the time, it was Lauren asking Sergio, who gave her short, curt replies. Lauren doesn’t seem to bothered by it._

_"An agreement? Really?” Raquel mused._

_"Of some sort. So, you going out with him?” She repeated the question._

_"No. I have an exam in Philosophy on Monday.” Raquel headed to the kitchen to refill her coffee. Her caffeine intake had spiked over the last couple of days as she tried to cram a semester’s worth of information in one week. The beverage doesn’t even work on her anymore, but she had to try._

_“Party now, study later!” Her roommate exclaimed, tossing her hair to gain volume._

_"That’s one sure way to fail your major.” She grumbled, but to no reply._

_Three short knocks pounded at the door. She heard the faint sound of the lock opening. “Guess who’s outside, Raquel? Her roommate called out to her in the kitchen._

_“Who?”_

_"It’s nerd boy!” Raquel winced at the nickname. “I thought you don’t have a date tonight?”_

_“I don’t,” she firmly replied. “He does.”_

_It was Raquel’s fault, to say the least. She set up her friend on a date with a classmate from her Anthropology class. The girl nagged her about Sergio after seeing him escort Raquel to their class one day and asked her if he was her boyfriend. When she fervidly denied such accusation, Silena persistently asked for Sergio’s number. Raquel felt that she’d be a good match for her best friend. The girl was beautiful and nice. Not to mention very smart._

_When Raquel told Sergio about Silena, his only answer was, “her reputation precedes her.” For Raquel, that’s the best as she could pry out of Sergio about a girl. Feeling like a matchmaker, she set up a date between the two. Sergio eventually agreed, after blackmailing him into not returning his library card, which was currently in Raquel’s possession._

_“Even nerd boy has a better love life than you, Raquel. Keep up, girl!” Lauren mused. She checked him out, her blue eyes scanning the person in front of her._

_"I would appreciate it if you don’t talk about my “relationship status” in my presence.” Sergio awkwardly said. Raquel refrained a snort. Lauren ignored him._

_“Oh, don’t worry. She’s perfectly aware of your presence.” She patted Sergio’s shoulder, who immediately seemed to stiffen. “All right,” Lauren raised her hands, suddenly aware that she’s the one making Sergio uncomfortable. “I’m going. Have fun on your date, nerd boy.”_

_He nodded toward her. “Likewise.”_

_Raquel called out from her place. “Don’t drink too much!”_

_“Don’t sulk too much!” And they heard her cackle outside._

_Sergio stepped in, finally making himself more at home. “What was that about?”_

_“No idea.” She sipped from her freshly brewed coffee. Black. No sugar. No creamer. “What are you doing here?”_

_He held up his black tie, “I am in need of your assistance.”_

_She let out a laugh. “You really came all the way here for me to help you with your tie?”_

_"Yes—no.” He started, “why am I on a date with Silena again?”_

_“Because you said she was pretty.” Raquel held up a finger. Then another. Then another. “Two, she likes you, and three, you need to go out.” She wrapped the tie under his collar and started to create a simple knot. She deemed his presence too overwhelming and moved a step backward._

_His eyes met hers. “Why am I going out and you’re alone? Shouldn’t the rule be: if one goes out, the other goes too?”_

_“You and your obsession with rules. You need to loosen up more than I do.”_

_“I don’t.” He firmly replied._

_“Yes, you do.” She countered. “Now go out and woo Silena, and I expect you to not be back until 11 PM. It’s better if you don’t come home at all. You know, get laid and all.”_

_I know what you meant with that last statement, Raquel.” He curtly replied. She shuddered the mental image of Sergio and Silena in bed. Naked._

_"Oh, you do? Good for you then.” Her face suddenly flushed. “Now go and be your lovely self. She’ll love you.”_

_“She will?” He asked._

_“She will.” Raquel brushed off the non-existent dust from his shoulder and straightened his tie. “Get out of my apartment!” She pushed his frame out of her dormitory unit._

_7:46 PM_

_It’s been an hour since she found herself in solitary confinement with some of the greatest philosophers to have ever stepped foot in this world. Okay, maybe she doesn’t want to retire to a monastery after all. Her thoughts drift to her roommate who was probably hosing down tequila shots one glass after the other by now. At least one of them is getting drunk and having fun. Raquel gave up on her notes as she contemplated on going out to a nearby nightclub. She decided against it, knowing she’d regret dancing the night away more than not studying at all. The hangover will not be worth it._

_8:24 PM_

_Raquel’s stomach reminded her that she hasn’t eaten anything since breakfast. Disappointment filled her as she was greeted by a void in their pantry. Her huff of annoyance seemed to echo around their empty unit as she forced the storage close. The silence suddenly felt too much. She grabbed a cardigan and stormed out of their dorm room, not caring if the sound of the door slamming echoed in the hallway._

_She’s not even sure why she’s so annoyed. It’s definitely not her period, she just had it a week ago. It’s not her roommate being nosy and loud either, she was already used to it. It’s also most likely not Sergio going out on a date with Silena; how can she be mad at something she thought to be a really good idea? It must be the pressure caused by the finals, she decided._

_She’s not entirely certain what the cause of her demise is, but she’s sure what would lift her spirits up. A warm paella from Hanoi._

_9:49 PM_

_Raquel stared at the messy state she left their unit in. Her lectures were spread across the table in their makeshift dining room. Coffee mugs and utensils linger unwashed in the sink. Shoes lay unaligned on the floor, some of them missing a pair. With a deep breath, she started to arrange the items back to their original state. Her notes stacked on top of another (she’d get back to them tomorrow, she swears), Raquel and Lauren’s footwear pushed against the wall in a perfect line, their kitchenware drying from the rack above the sink. In a way, she felt better than she did before she left for dinner._

_9:54 PM_

_Her eyes drooped down, forcing her eyes shut. She wondered how the three cups of black coffee refused to work on her system. She succumbed to sleep._

_10:21 PM_

_A soft knock willed to her to escape from slumber. “Forgot your keys?” Raquel opened the double lock on the door, “Oh, Sergio.”_

_A smile made its way on his face, “hey.”_

_She glanced at the clock on her left, “It’s not even 11 PM? Why are you back so soon?”_

_“Why are you asleep so early?” He countered back. A pair of half-awake, half-asleep eyes staring at him was all the response he received. “We did not click. Too many disagreements. She almost threw a glass of champagne on me.”_

_“Do you want to talk about it?” Raquel finally was able to come up with an answer. She yawned as she let Sergio in._

_He shook his head, “No.” She nodded. Her eyes met his. There was a look in his eyes that neither can name. They remained in that state for a few minutes. It was only then she realized that she was able to let out the breath she didn’t she was holding for several hours now._

_Okay.” She whispered. “I’m going back to bed. You’re welcome to sleep here if you want to. There’s coffee in the maker and leftover from Hanoi. Help yourself.” She heard him mutter “thanks” as she retreated to her bedroom._

_When Lauren arrived later the evening, she was almost drunk dead in the night, but even her hazy state, what she saw was clear. Sergio and Raquel were sleeping next to each other. Raquel was facing the wall, her back to Sergio’s chest. She shook her head in disbelief at her roommate’s refutes. In a few years’ time, Lauren decided._

* * *

About two hours after their friend’s delivery, Tokio, Raquel, and Monica were in the corridor outside Alicia’s room, waiting for the signal to let them in. Monica was seated calmly, a small smile evident on her face. Raquel was leaning against the wall, biting the nail on her thumb, and Tokio paced in a little box, her feet tapping a syncopated rhythm. Not long after, German emerged from Alicia’s private room, prompting that it was suitable to enter.

Tokio greeted the woman lying on the bed, “oh, you’re awake.”

“Unfortunately,” Alicia answered with a raspy voice. “I just had my vagina cut and stitched, I need to rest.” The redhead propped herself slowly on the bed with Raquel and Monica by her side, ready to assist the woman who just gave birth.

“Sleep, _mi carino_ ,” Monica suggested, taking a seat on the hospital bed.

“I told them to give me the highest legal dosage of drugs possible, I can’t sleep now even if I wanted to,” Alicia explained. 

The ginger’s admission surprised Raquel and Monica. “What?” The actress failed to hold back her laughter. Alicia just shrugged.

Monica walked over to the bassinet beside the hospital bed, “have you decided on a name now?”

“Carlos.” The baby cooed and all the women in the room were charmed. 

“That’s cute.” Tokio mused. “Sounds like a future heartbreaker to me.”

“Don’t speak it into existence!” Raquel reprimanded as she slowly carried Carlos from his bed. She carefully brushed her godson's cheek, smiling as the baby wrinkled its face in response to her touch. 

Alicia’s thoughts, however, seemed to drift to different matters. “Now that the bubble has been popped, when are we scheduling the next wine night?”

“You’re really thinking of alcohol right now?” Raquel asked, looking up from the baby she was holding.

“Hey, I’ve laid off alcohol for 9 months, I think I deserve a bottle.”

Tokio butted in, “or two.”

“And a cigarette,” Alicia added.

“Or two,” Tokio answered.

“Na-uh, missy,” The youngest in the group reprimanded Alicia. “You’re preparing to breastfeed your son, you’re not intaking any alcohol nor you’re risking breathing problems to Carlos.” Monica recalled her experience with her son. 

“It’s only wishful thinking. The wine, however, is debatable. How is Cincinnati, by the way?”

Monica beamed at the mention of her son, “he started taking his first steps a week ago. Scared both me and Denver.” She narrated.

“Time does fly, no?” the actress declared. “Soon enough you’d enroll him in a kindergarten class, and then it’s blurry from there.”

“It does,” the blonde agreed. “I don’t think I’ll ever be ready to see him grow up.”

Tokio, despite her love for her godsons, seemed distant at the topic of children and started to rummage through the mini-refrigerator the private room had. “Oh, good. You have chips here. Someone here,” she gave Raquel the side-eye, “thought a breakfast bar would suffice the hunger I’ve experienced while waiting for you, ex-pregnant lady, to… deflate.”

“Such millennial terms. Is that what you learn with your new boy toy?” Alicia intrigued.

The photographer stopped chewing for a second. “No, actually it’s me teaching him things.”

“You’re still together, then?” Raquel passed Carlos to his mother, who gratefully took him. Alicia was one of the last people you’d expect to be carrying a child, but seeing her now, basking in that post-pregnancy glow, you’d know that she’d be a great mother.

Tokio cut through her thoughts, “Not exclusively. Still testing the waters.”

“He looks like he’s ready to jump anytime,” Monica commented.

“Kids these days,” Tokio shook her head in disbelief, “always jumping headfirst.”

Alicia looked up from Carlos, then to her friends, “I’m betting 10 bucks that Raquel is the one here getting taught by the Professor.” She used her right hand to point at Raquel menacingly.

“I’m betting 20,” Tokio smirked.

“What “taught”?” The accused echoed. She subtly glanced at the thermostat beside the door. It was on, but her face felt heated.

“Don’t play innocent with us here, Raquel.” The photographer insisted.

Monica, who pitied Raquel for being in the “hot seat” spoke up, “aren’t you getting any action?”

“Oh, you sound like such a mom, Mon.” Tokio mocked, but the blonde didn’t seem to be insulted.

Alicia clarified. “We meant sex.”

“Hot, sweaty, skin slapping fucking,” The words slowly escaped Tokio’s tongue, gradually speaking each syllable to grate at Raquel’s ears.

“Oh my God, no! We’re—our agreement does not include any of that!” Raquel’s eyes widened at her friends’ allegations. It’s one thing to accuse them of dating, it’s another to accuse them of having ‘hot, sweaty, skin slapping sex’, as Tokio would put it.

Monica, the last person she would expect to encourage the topic, cut in on the conversation, “Maybe it needs to? You need to open your legs, Venus.” Great, she even called her the goddess of sex. They really are pushing it.

“I’ll sleep with men when I want to.” Raquel waved off in dismission.

The hot seat ended, to Raquel’s relief, as her phone’s bell notification resounded in the room. Raquel fished out the phone from her small bag. Sergio.

 **“Help,”** the text message said, revealing a photo of two ties folded neatly beside one another. The one on the left was in the shade of forest green. The other was dark grey.

She replied immediately, **“For what?”**

Tokio snickered behind Raquel, who quickly glared at her raven-haired companion. “I didn’t know you were into that, Raquel,” She turned to Alicia and Monica with a light tone, “maybe she is getting it, she’s just secretive.”

The brunette dismissed Tokio as she received another message from Sergio. **“Meeting with the Institute of Science at the University of Edinburgh.”**

Raquel couldn’t hide her grin, which quickly came into the notice of the women around her. **“Wow! I’m happy for you! Use the grey one.”** She quickly texted back and tucked her phone in her pocket, away from prying eyes. 

Sergio, despite his reserved demeanor, was very brutal in his field. Being the department head of his faculty in the university, he has published different journals and researches about forensic science. If Raquel remembers correctly, he is frequently invited to different universities across Europe to share his expertise in the field. Raquel wonders how he even has time for her at all. 

With a warning look to her friends, Raquel dialed his number in FaceTime and quickly left the room. He answered after a few rings. “Congratulations!” She greeted him with an enthusiastic whisper. His smile seemed to give her warmth in the rather cold air circulating around the hospital. 

“Thanks,” he gratefully replied. “Why are you whispering?”

“I’m in the hospital right now,” she switched the camera to its main one to show Sergio her surroundings. “Alicia just gave birth. How are you?”

“I’m good. Tell her my regards, I hope the baby’s healthy.” He said, propping his phone somewhere so he could get back to arranging his clothes. From Raquel's view, she could see at least three sets of shirts and ties neatly grouped together.

“Results from the post-natal still hasn’t been given, but he sure looks like a healthy boy to me. I’ll send a photo later.” She promised.

Despite her glitched view of Sergio, she saw him smile. “You’d be a wonderful godmother to him.”

“Thank you.” Raquel smiled back.

“Of course, you’re amazing.”

Raquel snorted, only half believing his compliment. “Stop kissing my wonderful ass. I need you as my date for a fundraising event in a month. I need to confirm my invite as soon as possible.”

“I’m at your disposal, my lady.” He bowed his head in mockery.

“It’s a suit and tie event,” Raquel informed him.

“Duly noted,” he made a mental note. “What will you be wearing, Inspectora?” He said, flashing her a mischievous smile with a hint of flirtation in his voice.

Raquel’s composure almost faltered. She has had enough sexual innuendos to last her a week. “Already imagining me, huh? For your information, I’d be wearing a black evening gown from Yves Saint-Laurent.”

“Ah. Designer gown.” He commented, “must be a big event.”

“Yes.” Raquel breathed. “Can I trust you to not bail out on me last minute?”

Sergio earnestly replied, “it’s an honor to not bail out on you.”

“Okay. I’ll drop by soon.”

“I’ll wait for your presence.” 

Raquel returned to the private suite prepared for her friends’ reactions. They finally gave up on teasing her, knowing well that they couldn’t pry anything from her. After an hour and a half of catching up, Alicia finally kicked them out, announcing that the drugs are finally wearing off her, and she needs to rest. Her friends were hesitant to leave Carlos and his mother, but obliged, already planning to visit them soon.

The actress wearily pulled herself from the passenger seat of Tokio’s Prius as she came to a halt in front of Raquel’s apartment. Today was a tiring day. Seeing her friends and her godson, made her giddy, but her visit to the hospital wore her down. She was never really fond of the white painted walls and the sterile scent that permeated through its halls.

Her eyes fell to the envelope lying on her coffee table. The fatigue she previously felt has now faded. Raquel grabbed a pouch from a shelf nearby and produced two pencils and a few multi-colored highlighters. Her concentration quickly surged as she stuck a pencil to secure a knot in her hair.

It’s time to get to work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> REFERENCES:  
> Murkoff, H., 2016. What To Expect When You're Expecting. 5th ed. New York: Workman Publishing Company, Incorporated, pp.122, 125.


	6. Chapter 6

_Sunday, May 25, 2019_

  
It’s funny how you can learn so much about a person in a month and a half—even if you’ve known them for almost half of your life.

She’s been spending a lot of time with him out in the open that her skin is finally acquainted with his hand on the small of her back, guiding her as he opens a restaurant door for her. Her fingers have made a home in between his that it almost feels like cradling his hand in hers is the only thing her palms are capable of doing. She also found that his eyes’ hazel shade turns lighter when the sunlight hits his irises—then flecks of gold appear. (Don’t tell Sergio any of that, he might give her an entire lecture on the anatomy of the human eye.)

If Raquel learned anything new from their little show for the past month and a half, it is that she could feel Sergio’s stare even from a mile away. So, here, despite the crowd of three hundred people in a large banquet hall, she proves herself right once again when she turned around to see Sergio giving her a look. He must be bored out of his mind.

After the organization’s vice-director spoke his regards on saving children and ending violence against women, and a little bit on where the sponsors’ money went, the guests scattered around the function hall to socialize with each other. Events like these are perfect for creating your network and connections. Who knows? You might meet your next business partner or your next firm director.

Sergio, however, does not need to build his network any further. He has the directors of various Institute of Sciences in his speed dial _(probably after Raquel’s number, she’s his emergency contact)_. He’s acquainted with the administrative officers of Ivy League schools. Not to mention that he’s also the department head of his college in the university.

In Raquel’s peripheral vision, she sees him moving from his seat toward two men in the same Givenchy suits as Sergio’s. At least he’s found a friend.

“Miss Raquel Murillo!” An unfamiliar soprano voice called out to her, “it’s a pleasure to see you here!” Raquel turned around to see a young woman, probably in her early thirties, smiling at her. By her side is a woman who looked exactly like her, except she was wearing her hair down with wavy curls, whilst the other one has her hair pinned up by an intricately designed hair accessory.

Her sister held her hand out. “I’m Catalina,” then she cocked her head to the side, “she’s my sister, Cathiana. We’re the daughters of Romero Sanvictores.” Raquel recognized the name as the person who spoke earlier. 

She softly shook Catalina’s hand, “The pleasure is mine, ladies.” Raquel gave them a warm smile.

"I love your dress! Chanel?" Catalina asked. 

Raquel shook her head, "Thank you, it's Yves Saint Laurent." She wore a black floor length dress with a low sweetheart neck line that hugged her torso before flaring out gradually from her hips. The velvet fabric wrapped her arms, but left her back a little bit exposed. Her usual hair style was ditched for an updo, with a few strands framing her face. 

“We hosted this party,” Cathiana looked around, “I even created the sketches for the venue design.”

“I’m impressed. It must be tiring.” Raquel commented. The place was extravagant. Whilst the banquet hall had its beauty on its own, it would feel bland if it weren’t for Cathiana’s meticulous choice of design. The hotel’s function room has been designed with minimal, and yet very intricate decorations that spoke of elegance and simplicity. Something that is present even by the way the twins present themselves.

“It is,” Catalina admitted. “Although I did more of the planning, and she did more of the... talking.”

“Right,” her sister’s chirpy voice cut in. “I’m a social media influencer, by the way. I do have an actual talent contrary to popular belief,” she shrugged. “Enough about me, we want to know about you!” 

“There’s not much to tell, actually.” It’s not that Raquel was reluctant to share any details of her life. It’s just that she had nothing to serve.

“Of course there is!” Cathiana pressed. “You’re always on the news!” Raquel would personally beg to disagree. It has been an unusually quiet past week for her. After the hype for In Transit finally died down, and after being seen with Sergio for several dates, her social media and e-mails are now at a moderate level, where she can finally scroll through her accounts without her phone vibrating from a notification every millisecond.

“How about the man you came in here with,” Catalina stole a glance at Sergio in the corner, “how long have you two been together?” 

An easy question. “A year and a few months now.”

“Really?” Cathiana curiously asked. “I’ve been following you on your accounts and he didn’t seem to show up until recently.”

“He’s a very private person,” Raquel explained. “We decided to try to bring him to events and such to ease him into the media.” Sergio insisted that they rehearse this story together, so they won’t cause slippage when confronted by other people.

“So, you’re planning to get married?” There it is. The inevitable question she’s avoiding. She tried to keep the mental wince she just made from showing.

She croaked, “What?”

“You want him to be seen now. That means he’s staying for a long time.” Catalina gave her analysis.

“Isn’t that the point of dating?” Raquel answered, not giving away any hints. They might see a ring on her finger soon, anyway. She remembered the organized timetable Agata curated for her.

Catalina eagerly listened and nodded, but her sister was already in her world of socialites and fashion, albeit online. “A boutique in Singapore just messaged me if I wanted to endorse them. Look at how gorgeous these pantsuits are!” She held up her phone for Raquel and Catalina to see.

“Oh, wow. That’s wonderful.” Raquel pretended to be interested.

"You should do a photoshoot in Clarke Quay or Little India wearing that!” Catalina exclaimed, “wait—do it in Sentosa!”

“Oh my God, that’s perfect!” Then Cathiana returned to tapping away on her phone.

Raquel used this opportunity to escape, “excuse me, ladies, I have a man to tend to.” She glanced at the man in question who was still talking with the men who approached him earlier.

“Of course.” Cathiana gave her a big smile. Raquel could finally see how she became such an influencer. “If you need help with finding a wedding dress, I’ll give you the names of the best designers in the country.” Raquel made a mental note to steer away from all talk of wedding preparation. They won’t need it anyway.

Raquel slowly walked away from the two sisters and headed toward Sergio. She made her presence known by softly placing her palm in his forearm. It was such a gesture they are now accustomed to, that his hand involuntary moved its usual place at the small of her back. He turned his head to give her a sweet smile, to which she returned with a kiss on his cheek. It's all for show, she reminded herself.

Raquel intently listened to the men’s conversation. Another conference abroad. “I’m sure Sergio will be the perfect candidate for that conference. He’s been writing another dissertation for the past months,” she joined the conversation.

“This is Miguel Garcia,” Sergio pointed at the raunchy looking guy with a grey tie. “And this is Martin Berrote,” then to a man in a three-piece suit. “They’re my colleagues from the university.”

“Raquel Murillo,” she smiled, unsure if she should hold her hand out.

“ _Mi mujer,_ ” Sergio lowly added. She turned her head at him, who avoided her gaze.

"You’re married?” Miguel asked, not hiding his surprise.

“No,” Sergio denied, “but we might as well be, right?” She felt her heart skip a beat. Or two.

“How is that faring out?” Martin asked, finding the topic amusing.

“We’re doing very well, actually.” Raquel swooped in. She just hopes her skills are enough for them to stop snooping around. They’ve been going out for several dates now, but the thought of someone confronting their “relationship” scares her.

“How come your brother never told us about your _‘mujer’?”_ Martin asked.

Raquel raised an eyebrow at Sergio, “Martin is Andres’…” he trailed off.

“Partner,” Martin continued for him.

“I told him not to tell anyone yet until I’ve proposed.” Sergio lied. They’d have to talk about bringing Andres in the know.

“How is he, by the way?” Raquel queried.

Martin took a sip of his Chardonnay, “wonderful. He’s in a monastery in Italy to curate his pieces for an art exhibit he’s working on.”

“Ironic.” Raquel mused. Andres was a very prominent figure in Sergio’s life growing up. He usually left Sergio to his own devices, but he looked after him when he could. Raquel rarely spoke to Andres, but she knows enough about him to conclude that staying at a monastery is both an ironic, yet a very Andres thing to do.

“He’d do anything for the finest things in life.” She could see how Martin spoke highly of Andres. He adores him—that was much obvious.

A glass of wine and two topic changes later, Sergio and Raquel were left to their own little bubble. Miguel received an emergency call, and Martin was pulled into another conversation by a business owner she recognized from earlier.

Raquel broke the thickening ice, “what was that about?”

"What do you mean?” Either Sergio was playing innocent, or he really didn’t know that what he said affected her.

“’ _Mi mujer_ ’? You’re scaring me more than usual.” Raquel repeated his words earlier.

“He implied that he wanted to hit on you.” Sergio tried to explain, not knowing how to ease it into her.

Raquel made a sound, “what are we? College kids at a party?”

“God knows why. He’s married, as far as I know.” 

“And as far as the country knows, I’m taken. You have nothing to worry about.” She looked at him and gave him an assuring smile.

Sergio’s eyebrows furrowed. “Why me?”

Raquel softly smiled, “you look jaded.”

“I’m not.” Sergio denied, but they both knew that his statement was a weak one.

A smirk was plastered on her face. “If that’s what helps you sleep at night.” No one spoke for at least a minute. Or an hour. That’s how it felt like for Raquel, at the least.

Dazed and speechless, Sergio held out his hand. “Would you like to spare a commoner like me a dance?”

“Do you promise not to keep your eyes glued to the ground?” She remembered their little dance tutorial in his room almost two decades ago.

“No promises,” he teased. “But I’m certain I have improved over the years.”

I wonder who you have to thank for?” Raquel said with a light tone.

Sergio slowly pulled her into the makeshift dance floor in the middle of the banquet hall, “I have an amazing teacher to be grateful to.” He smiled, “I might ask her out for coffee to thank her.” Smooth.

“Do remember her order: black coffee. No sugar. No creamer.” Raquel gave him a small wink as he put his right hand on her back and held her left hand close to their chests.

* * *

_Raquel was supposed to be in a good mood. She was wearing a new deep green dress, carefully stitched to perfection by her mother. Her hair was pulled up in a half updo, her curled hair cascading down her shoulders—she spent the whole night and the morning in hair curlers. She was sporting a soft makeup look thanks to her mother’s kit. Tonight was supposed to be a fun night. This time next month, they’d be stressing over which college they’re admitted to. Yet for some apparent reason, Raquel couldn’t help but huff over as she plopped down a chair in their table. Sergio wasn’t even anywhere to be found._

_The boy in question suddenly appeared with a glass in his hand, “a glass of pink punch for the unusually quiet woman.” He held out the beverage to her. “Are you okay?”_

_"I’m peachy. Thanks for the punch.” She slightly tipped the glass to him._

_"It’s nothing. I need to stretch my legs anyway.” He looked down to his feet before he pulled a chair beside hers._

_Raquel mused. “You really haven’t left your seat since we came here?”_

_"You promised I wouldn’t have to move an inch if I came with you.” He blamed her._

_"I said you won’t have to ask anyone for a dance. Don’t twist my words.” To be honest, Raquel didn’t remember any of the promises she made whilst trying to bribe him into coming to the dance._

_"Same difference.” He turned to her. “The question, now, is why you’re still sitting here.”_

_"No one’s asked me yet.” Raquel lied._

_"Don’t look at me like that.” He held his hands up. “You know I don’t dance.”_

_“I don’t want to embarrass myself either.” She teased back. “Can you be an angel and get me a refill?” Raquel took ahold of his glass and downed its content._

_“There might be alcohol in there. Slow down.” Sergio reprimanded and yet he stood up for another serving of the beverage. Raquel glanced at the queue at the refreshment table. It would take at least five minutes for Sergio to reach the makeshift bar at the side of the gymnasium._

_Raquel combed through the sea of people at the dance. There were the quarterbacks with girls draped across their chests as they tried to impress them with their lame and bland jokes. On the other side of the gymnasium near the locker rooms, were the couples who thought that prom night was the most magical night in the world and decided to make the most out of it. Raquel’s only hope is that none of the teachers who were making rounds saw them._

_After what seems to be forever, Raquel found what she was looking for. Diego. And a girl. When Diego said he’d asked someone as his date, he didn’t think it would be her friend, Rina. She looks perfect today, Raquel decided. Her dress was in a shade of blue that mirrored the sky, a hue that matches the tie around Diego’s collar and his eyes. His eyes that looked like it can only see one thing—Rina._

_That’s the thing with events like these. It makes you feel vulnerable. There’s something about the dimmed lights, the slow music, and being held by someone you cared about. It could be the best night of your high school life, or just another normal day, depends on who you’re asking. For Raquel, it was the latter. To her dismay._

_Feeling like it was too much, Raquel walked out of the badly decorated gymnasium (it wasn’t, but Raquel did not have the heart to admit that it looked almost dreamy and romantic), and straight to her usual spot underneath the bleachers at the football field. In a way, it was her own little corner where she could strip off all of her armor when her battles are getting heavy._

_Raquel heard footsteps shuffling through the grass. “You found me.” She impassively said._

_"I always do.” Sergio sat down at the scaffolding beside her._

_"Right.”_

_He inquired, “what are you doing here?”_

_"I needed air,” she replied. “I think my dress is hugging my figure a little too tightly.”_

_“For someone who wanted to be an Inspector, you’re very bad at lying.” He mused._

_Raquel didn’t know what to answer._

_"It’s ridiculous.” She conceded._

_"You have tears in your eyes.” Sergio used his thumb to wipe at the tear she didn’t even know she had. “It’s not ridiculous.”_

_She shook her head. “It sounds ridiculous in my head. Are you enjoying the dance?”_

_Sergio shrugged. “It’s not my thing, but it’s an interesting event, to say the least.”_

_"You see, between the two of us,” Raquel pointed at them, “I’m the one more likely to enjoy in the dance. And yet, I’m the one here feeling all alone.”_

_"You can be around people and still feel alone.” Sergio pointed out. “It’s not a physical state. It’s in your mind.”_

_Sergio stood up and slowly pulled her from her seat. She can feel his shyness radiating through his actions. He could only think of a few things that could cheer her up at the moment. He nervously rested his hand on her waist and grabbed her hand. Slowly, they swayed to the faint music of the band from the gymnasium. Their disco ball was the moon hanging above them, the light softly touching Raquel’s skin._

_"What’s bothering you? Is it the guy?”_

_"Yes and no,” she decided. “It started when I saw Diego dancing with Rina. Then all of a sudden, I saw my future, living alone in my house in Bilbao with my 12 cats named after the Greek gods.” She joked, trying to steer away from the conversation._

_"Please don’t give Dionysus wine to drink.” He indulged her._

_Raquel softly shook her head while smiling, “That sounded better in my head. I’m scared of what’ll happen after graduation. What will even become of us in college?”_

_"We’ll be fine. We’re going together, remember?” They were. Two seats at the Universidad Francisco de Vitoria. One for their sociology program, the other for their anthropology program._

_"What if it doesn’t? What if my life falls apart like my dad’s?” Raquel’s voice slightly cracked._

_The sound of promise was present in his voice. "It won’t.”_

_"How are you so assured of that?”_

_"You’re a smart and capable woman, Raquel. You think that no one notices you and your witty antics, but I see you.” For what seemed to be the first time, Raquel was rendered speechless. She just stared at the boy who she looked up to intently. There, in his eyes was a look that she’s never seen before._

_"What is it?” Raquel asked, her eyes still drawn to his._

_Sergio looked away, breaking the trance. “Nothing.” Raquel knew it wasn’t, but she decided not to push it._

* * *

“You’re not a bad dancer yourself. Have you been taking ballet lessons?” Raquel commented on her dance partner’s skills. His gaze is definitely not glued to the floor but is now piercing through her eyes.

“Only from the most prestigious ballet school in Spain.”

“I’m going to leave a five-star review for them. They do work miracles.”

“They offered me the role of Don Quixote. You might want to free your schedule for the gala night.” Raquel giggled at his joke. She never giggled, but the thought of Sergio dancing to a live orchestra while wearing tights is worth her unusual behavior.

“How did the reading go?” Sergio started once Raquel stopped teasing him about the mental image his ballet joke gave her.

“As good as it can get. I can’t really decipher anything from their blank stares.” It felt like judgment day. Raquel rehearsed her lines over and over again for the past month, but no amount of preparation would triumph over the result of actual line throwing with a different person. Raquel felt that she did well. She already knew the character inside and out, all that’s left is to please the producers of the film.

“Are producers always like that?”

“At times. They don’t want to show that they favor you just yet. I swear, sometimes, they’re better actors than everyone I know in the industry.”

“You’ll get it.” Sergio declared.

“I should,” Raquel agreed, “I’ve exerted too much effort for this career, and for this role.”

“Like this? Us?” Sergio tipped his head lower to whisper in her ear.

“It’s a part of it, yes.” If Raquel shivered slightly, she tried not to show it. “Do you wish I hadn’t dragged you into this?”

“No,” Sergio firmly answered. “You?”

Raquel shook her head, smiling at the man holding her. There might be a few regrets for her choices in her career along the way, but she must admit, this wasn’t one of them.

Sergio returned the smile. Her breath hitched as she met his eyes. His smile suddenly wiped off from his face. His eyes pierce through her like he’s trying to find Cassiopeia in her irises. She knew that look from somewhere. It was a gaze that kept her awake for a few days trying to discern what that meant.

"Your face…” She trailed off.

Sergio laughed nervously, “my what?”

“Nothing,” Raquel laughed. “It just reminded me of homecoming—you wanted to kiss me at the dance!” She finally pieced it together. Raquel mused at her realization.

Sergio gulped, “I—"

She mockingly smiled to spite him. “Actually, don’t answer that.” Raquel already knew his answer.

It was two hours past midnight when they went home. Raquel repeatedly yawned on the drive home, her body leaning on the door of the passenger seat in Sergio’s car. Her eyes slowly fluttered closed as she is slowly lulled to slumber by the woman on the radio. When she woke up, they were already parked in front of her apartment complex. Sergio’s head was rested on his hands which were still clutching the steering wheel. She smiled at the sight.

Raquel softly tapped his shoulder, “hey.”

He stirred awake, “what? Oh, sorry.”

“Why didn’t you wake me up?” She asked, her voice a little too quiet.

“Because I didn’t want to wake you up.”

Raquel rested her palm on his forearm, “come on.” She urged.

“Why?”

“Stay the night.” Raquel plead. “It’s late and you’re sleepy.”

It didn’t take him long to answer, “okay.”

She woke up to the strong aroma of her coffee permeating through her apartment. She turned to the other side of her bed and saw that Sergio’s form was nowhere to be found. That’s how they used to spend the nights after their “dates”; in his place, or hers. Raquel even left a space in her cabinet in case Sergio wanted to move some of his belongings so staying the night won’t be such a fuss. 

Raquel walked to the kitchen and saw Sergio helping himself to the American breakfast he used to cook when he was still studying in the United States.

She grabbed a piece of freshly cooked bacon from the plate and popped it in her mouth. “Hey!” Sergio scolded her, to which she smiled at him sweetly.

“Good morning to you too, Sergio.”

“Steal my food one more time, and I’ll put sugar on your coffee.” He threatened.

Raquel gasped, “such horrors!”

They did their morning routines in perfect harmony. Raquel made their coffee as Sergio finished up cooking. Her kitchen might be small, but they made their little dance work. His hand on her hip to compel her to move. A brush of their fingers as she passes him a condiment. His palm on top of her hand as she tries to reach something from the cupboard.

They ate their breakfast in comfortable silence. Something has changed, Raquel notices, but couldn’t pinpoint exactly what. What changed was probably something their past relationship could not afford. Sure, they stayed the night, and even stayed long enough in the morning to eat breakfast together, before heading off separate ways. Yet today, nothing feels rushed. They seem to relish every second, every banter, every smile thrown at each other’s way.

Raquel may have forgotten how it feels like to wake up and have somebody make you smile on a dreary Monday morning, but he’s slowly making her remember.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading and for your comments! It's overwhelming how excited you all are to see their relationship grow. We'll get there. -k


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back from a 14(?) day hiatus! I'm sorry for not updating for two weeks! I hope this chapter makes it up for the inactivity. Also: I am so, so, grateful for everyone's feedback and comments! I apologize for not being able to reply to each one, but please do know that all your comments are highly appreciated. Thank you for the love and support, you keep me going. :)
> 
> I also edited the text formatting so it’s easier to read when you’re on your phone!

_Friday, May 31, 2019._ _The day Raquel deliberately avoided any news outlets and her social media accounts._

Raquel could already hear the wedding bells ring—and that’s just by standing in the middle of the entryway of the jewelry boutique they were currently in. The shop was designed to resemble a wedding reception. Faux floral arrangements brandish the floor to ceiling windows. The gold accent color of the walls perfectly encapsulated the ambiance of being in a classy wedding ceremony. The finishing touch was Shirley Jones’ soft voice singing ‘Til There Was You circling around the store.

She could undoubtedly hear the bells ringing.

Raquel glanced at the man beside her, who was unusually comfortable at the moment. While spectators have finally become accustomed to the professor’s presence in Raquel’s life, Sergio still felt uneasy with changes in their “so-called” relationship, especially if “change” refers to a certain ring on a certain finger of Raquel’s hand.

An enthusiastic voice greeted them, “ah! Look at the wonderful couple!” The voice came from a man who wore a three-piece suit and what could be a pair of designer shoes. “You must be Mr. Marquina,” he extended a hand toward Sergio who firmly shook it. “Agata called for an appointment.”

“I am,” Sergio confirmed, who gave a curt nod to the man before him.

“Julian,” he replied, “nice to meet you.”

Sergio gave him a small smile, “likewise.”

He turned to Raquel with an eager grin, “And you are?”

“Raquel Murillo.” She gave her name as she offered her right arm to Julian.

Julian shook it and gave it a small kiss after, “A sister? Or a friend?” He looked to Sergio with a confused look.

“The fiancée,” Sergio emphasized the first word. Raquel felt a shiver crawl down her spine. There was something with the way he announced it—with the hoarseness and modest possessiveness—that felt peculiar. She just couldn’t pinpoint what it was.

Julian chuckled nervously, hoping not to ward off possible customers. “I apologize. It’s not common practice for someone to be bringing his girlfriend for engagement ring fitting.”

Raquel waved Julian off, “We’re not a normal couple,” she explained. “Aren’t we?” Sergio gave her a lopsided grin as he placed his arm on the side of her waist, tugging her closer to him. She could feel his warmth permeating to her side. 

“No,” Sergio then wrapped his arms from her backside and rested his head on hers, “we’re not.” The floral arrangements displayed on the boutique’s window may be as fake as their relationship, but nothing compared to the warmth Raquel currently felt---that was unfeigned. 

“How many years have you been together?” Julian curiously asked the couple in front of him. 

Sergio spoke up, “a year and 7 months.” They stuck to the story Raquel crafted. They were childhood friends who went to high school and college together, stayed in touch even after parted ways. The two created a story on how after Raquel’s infamous divorce with Alberto, she would spend time with Sergio. To be fair, that was how their story genuinely went down, except for one minor detail: neither actually fell in love. That’s where Sergio’s meticulous mind entered their creative process. He would offer her made-up stories about their supposed first dates and how they both kept Sergio from the limelight. It was one of their favorite activities to do while on a date. Her companion’s fake anecdotes never failed to amuse her.

“Perfect timing to be engaged, huh?” Julian playfully winked at Raquel and gave a suggestive smile to Sergio. “Let’s get along then, shall we?”

Sergio fixed his glasses, “please.”

“Do you have any preferences? Classic? Color-accented?” Julian offered Sergio a catalogue and pointed out rings of various designs. Raquel’s small frame tried to look over Sergio’s shoulder but to no avail. Sergio moved to the left to block her line of sight completely. “We have the actual rings in the other room if you wish to see them in person.”

“Would you mind taking her size? I’ll pick for myself.” Sergio closed the magazine and handed it to Julian.

“Of course. Would you please wait here, Ms. Murillo?” Julian disappeared from his usual place behind the glass counter.

She glared at him. “What are you doing?”

“Nothing. This is as close as I can get to buying a ring and surprising anyone with it.” Sergio explained. Raquel was aware of Sergio’s refrainment from romantic relationships but didn’t know that he never planned on getting married. She reluctantly made a mental note to find him a legitimate woman to wife after their little operation.

Before Raquel could reply, Julian emerged from the other room. “Would you mind putting this on?” He passed an adjustable ring to Raquel. She wore it as she stared at Sergio’s face with sympathy. She’ll give it to him. After all, this will be the last time she will be proposed to. After Alberto, she found it difficult to trust anyone from the male population.

Save for a few men who stood by her. “Now, won’t you be an angel and wait outside while I pick one that best suits you?” Sergio pointed to the circular bench in the middle of the store.

“Might as well pick a wedding dress while I’m at it.” Raquel huffed as she conceded to Sergio’s request. She grabbed a wedding magazine with annoyance visible on her face.

Sergio held out to her wrist and whispered, “just stick to the budget.”

“No.” Raquel smiled sweetly at her soon-to-be fiancé, “I’ll treat myself to the largest and most extravagant wedding gown, you won’t be able to close your jaw when you see me walking down the aisle.” She whispered back to Sergio who seemed to have been taken aback by her words. The actress witnessed Sergio gulp for air as she winked before she retreated to the seat, magazine in hand.

Raquel flipped through the pages with awe. The pictures were of wedding dresses: gowns wrapped in lace and other expensive material, white fabric sewn into different makes from mermaid dresses to gowns and veils with long trails. She could remember her wedding dress. It was a modest dress with short, capped sleeves, with a skirt that flared from her hips, designed by one of the country's best designers. The dress wasn’t what Raquel had in mind when she planned her wedding to Alberto, but it was a beauty, nonetheless.

She could remember how she walked down the long, narrow aisle of a church in Barcelona. It might as well be the longest walk in the actress’ life. The seats were filled with hundreds of people—mostly Alberto’s acquaintances. The orchestra started to play Pachelbel’s Canon in D, drowning the sound of the camera shutters from both of her sides. If only she knew how she would be treated in their marriage, Raquel would have requested to march to Toccata and Fugue in D minor.

The wedding went by with a blur. She couldn’t even remember saying “I do” to her ex-husband. It used to be a ceremony worth bragging—designer gowns and tuxedos, the most expensive catering service in the most lavish hotel in the city, even the guests are enough to pique the interest of the general public—directors, businessmen, politicians, all in one extravagant ceremony. It was unfortunate that the million-euro event could not even afford to save their subsequent failed marriage.

Raquel’s thoughts are disbanded by the look on Sergio’s face as he emerged from the private room Julian led him to with a blue velvet box on his hand. He waved it to meet Raquel’s eyes and winked as he slipped the infamous box in his suit jacket. Sergio, to Raquel’s surprise and amusement, felt excited? Enthusiastic? Ecstatic, even.

The light whistling of the sweet, Madrid breeze seemed to cling to Raquel’s soft yellow sundress. After Raquel complained to Agata how infuriating it was to pick a casual date attire, her manager took it to her hands and called in a stylist to pick out Raquel’s dresses for their appearances. A week after the call, she had twenty dresses delivered straight into her closet, hence the yellow dress flitting on her body.

Raquel took a rather large bite on her sandwich on her way back to Sergio, whom she left to his own devices at a park bench. She chuckled lightly as she found his posture very “Sergio-like”; straightened back, his feet aligned next to each other, and his arms resting neatly on his thighs. From a distance, she saw him toying around with the velvet box he acquired from the jewelry shop earlier.

Raquel walked up to him. “Must be a lucky girl,” she pointed to the box with her sandwich, “the one you’re proposing to.”

Sergio pushed his glasses back up to his nose with a flick of his thumb, “she is.”

“Do I know the girl?” Raquel mused as she sat down elegantly next to Sergio.

“You have your secrets, I have mine.” Sergio teased. His eyes returned to the blue paraphernalia and burned through it. Raquel quietly observed him through repeated glances. Silence seemed to fall between them lately. It’s not unwelcomed per se, but neither knew what to do with such change.

Sergio turned to her and reached for her left hand, “let’s see if this fits.”

“Really?” She deadpanned, “you’re not even going down on one knee?”

He paused to think, “do you really want a scandal? There are too many people here.” He glanced around to emphasize his point and returned his gaze to her.

“Fine,” she wrapped her sandwich back to its foil packaging and set it aside. “Give me that.”

“No,” Sergio pulled back the box as Raquel leaned in to grab it. “At least let me say something sweet.” Right. He kept on pressing the fact that this engagement may be the only time he’s proposing in his life. Raquel couldn’t fathom his perception of himself—not that he’d have a shortage of women who’d be willing to go out with him. But for his sake, Raquel let him get away with this one.

“Make sure it’s music to my ears.” She mused, folding her arms in mockery.

Sergio reached out to her hands, gently cradling them as if his life depended on it. Her hands were nestled in his palms, his thumbs softly stroking her knuckles, slowly pausing at the valleys of her bones. His eyes looked intently at her; a strange look evident in his hazel irises. He seemed to be in thought, so she waited. And waited. And waited.

Sergio was about to say something, yet immediately took it back before any words rolled from his lips. Raquel could see him holding back, yet she lets it go. “I’ve got nothing.” He sighed, his gaze, apologetic. “Marry me?” He glanced at her with a sweet, small smile, that despite his awkward proposal, any girl who’d say no would be an idiot.

Not to mention the ring that sat snugly in between the creases of the velvet box’s cushion. The glisten of the perfectly cut diamond under the sun caught her eye, but what piqued her attention was the two small alexandrite stones settled next to the larger gemstone. The stones seemed to flicker between the color of the midnight sky and the deep rainforest. Raquel has always been amazed by her best friend’s insane attention to detail, but it still surprised her that he was able to find the perfect ring for her. He knew her very well.

The thought of Sergio meticulously combing through every catalogue and collection to find the ring that best suited her lightened her mood more. Raquel couldn’t stop the grin that she was trying to hold back. Her thoughts flew back to his question. “Gladly,” she answered, her voice so soft, it was only meant for him.

With an inebriating smile, Sergio carefully lifted the ring from its place and guided it to its new home—Raquel’s hand. Once again, silence befalls them. This time, however, both fully embraced it, basking in each other’s presence. Her head gradually nestled on top of his shoulder as he slowly intertwined their fingers together, his thumb involuntarily brushing through the three gemstones resting on her left hand.

* * *

Raquel’s right thumb floated over her screen as she contemplated whether to send a picture of her “engagement” ring to her sister and mother. As far as her family is concerned, no one knew of the nature of Sergio and Raquel’s new relationship. All their knowledge came from the media outlets.

Despite her close age gap with her sister, the two had always had an estranged connection. Her mother believed it to be a passing phase, but neither moved past the occasional birthday and Christmas greetings. Laura, however, was still her sister, nonetheless. She would want to hear from her and Sergio.

She hit send.

Not even five minutes after her message, her phone blasted the voice of Enrique Iglesias. Raquel made a mental note of changing her ringtone to Van Morrison before answering. “Mi hija!” Her mother’s raspy, enthusiastic voice greeted her. Her voice sounds jaggy due to her increasing age, yet it sounded tender. You can’t forget the voice that lulled you to sleep for so many years.

Raquel softly smiled at her mother’s voice. “Hola, mama.”

“Who’s the lucky guy?” Her mom teased.

The younger woman sighed, she didn’t know if it was her mother’s Alzheimer’s, or if she simply didn’t know who she was involved with. “It’s Sergio.” Raquel laughed lightly as she shook her head, still bewildered at the thought of being engaged to someone she saw platonically for so long.

“Sergio?” Her mother paused. The faint sound of a pen scribbling on what Raquel imagines to be her Post-It notes made its way through her cellphone. “The little boy next door who always tailed after you?”

Raquel chuckled, “he’s not so little anymore.”

“Why haven’t you told me sooner? How long have you been together?” Raquel felt like she was back in her teenage years, sitting in their living room with her parents interrogating her about her boyfriend. If her mother continued her questions like how she asked them two decades ago, she’d be listening to the story of the birds and the bees in ten minutes.

“A while.” Raquel decided on a safe answer. “Enough to propose.”

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner? We would have wanted to meet him again!” Her mother has been staying at Laura’s, in a town at least 2 hours away from the hustle and bustle of Madrid. Raquel used to visit frequently when her mother first moved in 6 years ago, but it gradually lessened as her career as an actress slowly rose to the top.

“Sorry, mama, we’ve been keeping it on the low,” Raquel confessed. It was true. Sergio’s face might have been on the tabloids and her Instagram posts lately, but neither said anything about their relationship outside official interviews.

“It’s alright. You ‘ve always needed your own space.” Her mother paused once again, “I’m really happy that it’s Sergio. I’ve always rooted for him.”

Her eyebrows shot up, “have you?”

“You can’t be friends for someone that long and not have feelings for them.” The older woman mused as if it explained everything. “It’s about time you knew that, Raquel.”

Not wanting to disappoint her mother, she replied, “it took us that long, huh?”

Her mother made a sound of agreement. “I’m glad you took that leap.”

Words failed to escape from her lips. “I love you, mama,” Raquel earnestly said.

“I love you too, mi hija.”

“Say hi to Laura for me.” Her mother promised to before she hung up, leaving Raquel to her own thoughts.

* * *

_Raquel Murillo, for the past 5 years, ha been dreading the same date annually. Her birthday. It’s the one day she was supposed to lay back, relax, and celebrate having survived another year of bullshit, but for the past half-decade, it seemed that the Divine Providence had other plans for her._

_When she turned 18, her pet dog died._

_When she turned 19, her professor decided to give her a fail for the semester._

_When she turned 20, her boyfriend back then didn’t show up to the birthday date he promised her._

_When she turned 21, she was in too deep in her misery, she didn’t even go out to celebrate._

_Raquel pretended like it was not a big deal, but she was discreetly hoping this year was a catalyst. She planned a night out with some of the girls she was acquainted with from her theatre production. Nightclub and hopefully to a handsome guy’s bed. It would seem, however, that she spoke too soon. Raquel was already dressed in her halter top and jeans—her nightclub attire—when her friend’s boyfriend knocked on the door to tell her that they’d have to cancel due to “unforeseen” emergencies. She huffed at his excuse before slamming (albeit unintentionally) the door on his face._

_That was how Raquel found herself in front of Sergio’s apartment near the University fifteen minutes later. After her friends bailed out on her, she decided to not let it make another hit on her sanity. A white turtleneck shirt and a midnight blue jacket replaced her rather revealing top. Her feet are now thanking for changing from the black pumps to her favorite pair of Doc Martens. With conviction, she marched to Sergio’s place, hoping he’d be able to cheer her up._

_The dimly lit hallway and the eerily quiet place made the brunette uncomfortable. There seemed to be no sign of life from any of the six units in Sergio’s floor. Raquel called out, “Sergio! Open up!” She knocked on the door of Unit 4B a little frantically._

_She was about to give up when she heard the door creak open. It revealed her best friend in his librarian pajamas, his mane was a little disheveled, and his glasses a little crooked on his nose. Raquel grimaced as she realized she woke him up, but there were only 3 hours left of her day, and she’s not wasting it any further. “Get ready, we’re going out.” She announced as she let herself in, Sergio trailing after her._

_“Why?” His voice was still rather raspy, reminding Raquel that she disturbed him from slumber._

_“It’s my birthday.” She replied matter-of-factly._

_“I know.” He wiped his glasses with the hem of his pajama top and placed it back on his nose. “But we aren’t supposed to go out until Sunday.”_

_Raquel gestured to the bedroom, to which Sergio nonchalantly nodded. “Change of plans.” She made her way toward his wardrobe and pulled out a neatly folded green shirt. Her favorite. She placed it on his bed._

_“What happened?” Sergio inquired. He was leaning on the doorframe, holding a cup of coffee._

_“Friends may bail but that doesn’t mean I’m celebrating my birthday alone.” Then, Sergio understood._

_He quipped, “do you have any place in mind?”_

_“Surprise me.” Raquel gave him a wicked grin as she grabbed his cup on her way out. She winced as she realized that not only was it lukewarm, the coffee also had sugar and creamer in it._

_“Alright. Give me ten.”_

_It took them fifteen to get out of his apartment. Raquel had taken it to her discretion to munch on the raspberry bars he liked to hide in the pantry. Sergio just glared at his friend as he caught her red-handed in the kitchen. He decided not to pick a fight. It’s her day, after all._

_Side by side, they walked to his worn-down car in the apartment complex’s parking area. He had the vehicle as a high school graduation gift from his parents so he could come visit his family on the weekends. Raquel used to tease him that “visits” from Sergio also included her in the picture._

_Raquel moved around to find a comfortable spot in the passenger seat. Sergio reached over her to pull the seatbelt over her torso and secured it in place. She glared at him. “Better safe than sorry,” he gave a sheepish grin._

_The birthday girl found his collection of CDs sitting on the dashboard. His hand stopped hers before she could even touch anything and gave her a side glance. “You’re driving, I’m picking the music.” She announced._

_“No. You dragged me out of bed, I’m picking the music,” Sergio replied._

_Raquel, however, wasn’t having it. “I won’t have Chopin send you to sleep while driving.” She could already imagine herself yawning to whatever nocturne would be playing from the car’s sound system._

_“Then play Liszt,” Sergio suggested. As if it made any difference._

_“It’s my birthday.” Raquel reminded him._

_“No,” he replied even more firmly. “It’s my turn, remember?” Right. They had a stupid agreement where they would take turns who’d play the disc jockey regardless of who’s driving. It kept them from fighting if it’s Sinatra’s or Franklin’s voice who would be gracing their vehicle that day._

_“I’ll let you pick the music next time you’re driving with me.” Raquel negotiated, “actually, make that three times.”_

_Sergio contemplated for a moment. “That,” he paused, “is a voucher I will be using next time.”_

_The brunette gave him a sweet smile. “I expect you to.” She reached over his collection once again, his hands now glued to the steering wheel, unable to stop her._

_She combed through the discs in amusement, “now, what do we have here? Tchaikovsky, Nat King Cole, Sinatra, Brandenburg Concertos? Really, Sergio?” Raquel held up the disc containing Bach’s greatest works._

_A glare was directed at Raquel before he could even stop himself, “what? They keep me focused.”_

_“Right,” she mocked him. “Oh, here’s an interesting one! Backstreet Boys?” Raquel started to do a little dance as she softly hummed to the melody of_ I Want It That Way _, snapping her fingers to the beat of the song._

_“Are you going to pick a song or are you just going to mock my music taste?”_

_Raquel decided to give him a break. “How can you be my best friend and not have an Aretha Franklin album lying around for me?”_

_Sergio bobbed his head to the glove box, “check the compartment.” Sure enough, there’s a jazz album waiting to be played._

_She smirked toward his direction as she inserted the disc in the CD player. “You, Senor Marquina, are a miracle worker.”_

_The soothing alto of Franklin’s voice lulled them both as they drove in tranquil silence. Raquel thought he’d be taking her to a diner downtown or to Hanoi. And yet, it’s been an hour and they’re still driving. Away from the city, it seems. Sergio kept stealing glances at his friend who was occupied by the scenery outside the window. He found that the woman sitting on his passenger seat looked immaculate under the faint glow of the passing streetlights reflecting on her face._

_If Raquel didn’t trust Sergio with her life, she’d have thought he was driving her to her demise. He took a few turns that led them away from the main highway and into an isolated road illuminated by only a few street lamps. Finally, the car halted to a stop. Raquel looked around to see her surroundings. She reckons she wouldn’t see anything in the dark, but she gave Sergio the benefit of the doubt._

_What greeted her was a field of stars. One above and one below. The sky was freckled with tiny stars that didn’t seem to be visible from her apartment’s balcony. The field of shining lights below, however, was the one that caught her heart. It was the Madrid skyline. A reminder of the future she would have in hand soon. She leaned back to the hood of Sergio’s car as she sighed in awe. She muttered a simple “thank you” to her companion for taking her away from the city. For a few hours, at the least, she could breathe._

_“Happy Birthday, Raquel.” Sergio mustered. His gaze left the scenery and shifted to Raquel. The landscape before him was bewitching, but nothing pulled him more to a trance than the woman beside him._

_Raquel returned his gaze. “Thanks for letting me spend my day with you.”_

_“Always.” He answered. “We might not be back in our old houses, but at least I can still be the last person to greet you.” It was a tradition they had when they were kids. Raquel would always be the first one to greet him on his birthday, and Sergio would be the last to greet her on her day._

_“That’s always been reserved for you.” They weren’t kids anymore, and their current housing situation made it hard for them to keep tradition, but this custom still held up._

_“You know, this has been the most peaceful birthday I’ve had since I turned 17.” Her voice almost breaking at the confession. Her best friend looked at her in silence. “It’s always been a disaster for me. Like the universe is conspiring to make my birthday the worst possible day to live.”_

_She didn’t have to elaborate further. He held her as she wept on his shoulders on her birthday. For years, he tried to think of means to alleviate her pain to no avail. He muttered a simple prayer of thanks as he thought of Raquel._

_“Then we should make this a tradition,” Sergio suggested._

_“What?”_

_“Drive somewhere. Have a peaceful celebration.” He elaborated. They could use a little getaway once in a while._

_“We could go to the beach next year?” Raquel asked, hopeful. She knew he wasn’t fond of the sea, but she had to shoot her shot._

_“No.” Damn. She’ll have to try again next year._

_“You can’t say no to me, it’s my birthday.” She said it with such determination that he couldn’t help but laugh at her tenaciousness. He held up his hands in surrender. She smirked at him in response. Raquel might have to buy that black bikini she saw at a boutique in the city after all._

_They drove back to Madrid in silence. No jazz singers to fill in between the quietude. Just two friends who are content with each other’s presence. Raquel found that she didn’t mind spending her day in complete tranquility if only she’d be sharing this peace with someone she could be herself with in quiet and in chaos._

_Raquel was sure that her birthday concluded as she slept soundly on her bed that night, but Sergio proved her wrong a week later as he handed her a package wrapped in brown paper furnished with a string and dried flowers. Inside was a collection of albums of Ella Fitzgerald, Peggy Lee, and Aretha Franklin, among others. A note with Sergio’s handwriting fell on her lap, **“Por Raquel. Happy Birthday. To old and new traditions together. –Sergio”**_

_Raquel smiled at the gesture. She wouldn’t mind if Sergio was always there to cheer her up on her day. She really wouldn’t._

* * *

Raquel’s first thought as she poured in the red liquid onto her wine glass was, _“I need something stronger than this.”_ The day felt longer than usual, and with the amount of energy radiating from her guests in the living room, the night will be longer than its counterpart. Alicia and Monica were able to hold their husbands hostage for a day to take a mom’s day off. Tokio’s schedule, after a long time of negotiation, finally allowed her a vacation leave.

Monica swiped left and right on Alicia’s phone as she paused at each photo of Carlos. “He’s starting to look like German!” The blonde woman commented, “but he’s got your nose.” She held up Alicia’s phone next to the owner and squinted her eyes as she made a comparison.

Raquel leaned over to see for herself, “how is he?”

“He’s as healthy as a newborn child can be,” Alicia responded. “Who’d have thought a baby can make me lose sleep? I’ve only been sleeping for 4 hours a day. This is my only time off, you should be grateful I chose to spend time with you.”

“Of course, you’d choose time with us, your tongue needs wine to survive such drought.” Tokio mused.

“I am in no position of denying that fact.” The woman in question admitted. Alicia has been nagging the girls’ text messages for a wine night encore. She’d been bombarding their group message with photos of wine bottles she finds at the grocery. This has been a victory for the redhead.

“We should celebrate Raquel’s engagement!” Monica quipped. Three pairs of eyes turned at her. Monica had a tender look in her face. Alicia’s face was smug. Tokio had a smirk on her mouth that Raquel would very much like to wipe off. “Why didn’t you tell us?” The petite blonde pushed their newly engaged friend.

Monica grabbed her left hand and stared at the new addition on her finger. “Did he actually pay for this?” Tokio asked, impressed by the simple, yet elegant, and undoubtedly expensive ring.

“He’ll get his money back when we return it,” Raquel assured them. She wouldn’t want her friends to think that the ring will forever stay in her possession.

Alicia, who just got off the phone from texting her husband, returned to the conversation. “Sergio has money?”

“Shocking.” Tokio feigned her surprise. “He should take you to Paris on your honeymoon!”

“Our what?” Raquel nearly choked on her wine.

“Stop playing coy,” said the redhead to her right. “You heard her loud and clear.”

Monica, who had been on her third glass of the fermented drink spoke up, “that would be so sweet!”

A sigh of exasperation escaped from Raquel’s lips. “It would be, if there was an actual wedding. You all are aware that we’re breaking this off in a few months, right?” The last thing she wants is for the people who knew about their endeavor to start blurring the lines too.

“A farewell escapade, then?” Tokio suggestively said, her eyebrows bobbing up and down.

“Better yet,” Alicia added, “sell that ring and buy yourself a ticket to France on your own. No bullshitty men.” Now, that, is a recommendation she would gladly take. She looked back on the diamond crusted ring Alberto bought her for their engagement about 6 years ago. Regret filled her as she recalled her throwing the ring at him as her final act before the divorce. She should have pawned it and used it to fund her a ticket to Palawan.

“I think you should keep it. It’s like a trophy of war.” Monica said. “But, it’s not war if one of the two parties submit to subjugation.” Even in her tipsy state, the executive legal assistant never failed to spurt out words of enlightenment. Legend says that Monica could recite the whole constitution even in a drunken haze. That is, if you are lucky enough to see the blonde woman in an uncontrollable predicament. The woman knows how to hold her alcohol.

“I am not submitting to anything or anyone.” Raquel defended herself.

Alicia, who had been silently sipping on her wine, piped up. “You look happy, Raquel. It looks good on you.” Raquel timidly smiled at her friend. Her friend’s statement gave her a thought to ponder on. Her life was surprisingly better since she started this scheme with Sergio, but she believed it to be out of sheer luck, not because of the presence of someone in her life.

When Raquel did not answer, Tokio spoke up her mind. “I know you don’t want your happiness to depend on anyone, let alone a man, but you can’t deny that Sergio’s been the reason why you’ve been smiling more recently.” There was no doubt that the photographer has a keen, observant eye.

Two wine bottles later, and an additional shot of whiskey on the rocks for Raquel and Tokio, the women eventually evacuated the living room. The girls might have retreated to their homes, their conversations and drunken state a condition they will have moved past in the morning, but Raquel’s thoughts were fixated on her friends’ conclusions.

She stood firm in denial.

That is, until she received a “good night,” text from the man in question.

_Who was she kidding? For once, she owed this to Sergio. She just wasn’t ready to admit it yet._


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: mentions of drug overdose and homicide in Sergio's lecture.

_**In Transit star, Raquel Murillo, engaged to long time partner!** _

_Story by: Martina Ramirez | June 06, 2019_

_Murillo's fans from all around the country received great news after the actress posted a photo of an engagement ring on Instagram on Monday, June 03. The actress' longtime boyfriend, Sergio Marquina, finally proposed to her on a date in a park in Central Madrid._

_The post concluded with the caption, "I could give you a thousand yeses and it still wouldn't be enough." The photo rendered about half a million likes._

_According to Murillo's interviews, the actress and her fiancé met during their childhood and stayed friends even after college. The two finally decided to get together after almost three decades of friendship._

_Marquina, the actress' fiance, works as a forensic sciences professor in the Universidad Autónoma de Madrid._

_Surprised? Comment your thoughts down below!_

* * *

Heeled boots, check.

Plain, black button-down shirt, check.

Dark grey denim jeans, check.

Maui Jim sunglasses, check.

Raquel Murillo was all set for her new undercover assignment. She eyed herself in her full-length mirror in her bedroom, whirling around, angle-to-angle to check her appearance. When she was satisfied with the way she looked, the actress grabbed her ring and Sergio's infamous baseball cap that she borrowed from when she stayed the night in his place a year ago, back when they had to be cautious to not drag Sergio into the media's attention.

_ Oh, how time flies. _

The woman in disguise made her last stop to the kitchen, grabbing the brown paper bag that was securely seated in the middle of the kitchen counter. Raquel took a last look in her apartment before locking the door. She'd clean up when she comes home, she promised herself.

Seeing the University after almost two decades sent her waves of nostalgia she didn't even know was possible. Renovations and new additions were made to what used to be the tarnished, worn-out buildings. Yet, she saw herself younger by a hell lot of years, a determined sociology freshman, walking toward the old, Victorian archway that welcomed everyone who went under it to the University. Exactly like what she was doing at the moment.

Getting inside the campus was easy; she only had to flash an enticing smile to the security personnel and show him her alumni card. The tricky part, however, was blending into the crowd. Her neutral-colored clothing ensemble gave her some sort of concealment, but her wary demeanor will most probably give her away. So, Raquel took a minute or two to learn how college students act during finals week: exhausted, tired eyes matched with slumped backs further bent by the overwhelming amount of textbooks they're carrying in their arms. The actress decided to deviate from the general consensual action and headed for the Institute of Science building.

It was finals week, and as stressing as it was for the students, it was equally as bad for the professors, let alone the department head who would spend most of the week poring over paperwork from both his students and co-faculty.

Sergio barely had time to talk to Raquel for the past week. She understood that his work finally took a toll for all the time they spent together for the past months. The actress sympathized with the professor. Her name was once again making headlines due to her intriguing Instagram post: a ring settled on her finger and the fiancé's blurred form in the background. Interviews followed, which allowed her to steer the conversations from any mentions of a certain man to possible projects.

Today, however, was her free day. Raquel has not seen, nor talked to Sergio for 6 days, and she missed him. A lot. No, not missed him, yearned for him.  _ (Not that she'd admit it to herself). _ It's ironic how Raquel swore that she would never depend on someone for stability, but Sergio proved to be more than her constant these past months. He's become a foundation for her; like he planted something in her when they first started going out. And now, it's slowly spreading out, deeper, digging even into the corners of herself she didn't know existed.

Raquel combed through the sea of students in the maze of a building she was currently in. Her head was cowed down, her eyes flitting left and right as she avoided any gaze that might meet with hers. She halted to a stop in front of his lecture hall; 202B, she recalled. The students rummaged through the door as the resounding bell rang. The woman in black deliberately stayed in her place, hoping that an empty seat was available at the back of the room. She quietly sank in the corner most seat and removed her Maui Jim sunglasses, praying that her seatmate won't recognize her.

The noises that once filled the room was suddenly pulled to a stop as his figure started to strut in front of the lecture hall. Raquel's breath hitched. "Good morning." His voice felt like Raquel's coffee in the morning: dark, unsweetened, bitter. His students echoed his greeting not more than five seconds later.

“Last week, we took on the drugs and their chemical reactions to our bodies." He turned to the projector screen behind him. A photo of a rugged, white woman in her thirties, wearing what seemed to be a nurse's uniform flashed on the screen. "Today, we'll utilize our acquired knowledge to find what caused the deaths of these 7 patients." He relayed the background and other supporting facts to the congregation.

Sergio passed two thick stacks of paper to the students in front of him. "Three of these children died from cardiac arrest. Two passed away due to hypoglycemia, and the other two from liver failure. I need you to think of the drugs and medicinal formulas that may have caused such failures in the patients' bodies and narrow it down to five. You may refer to your previous lecture."

Raquel observed him command the room. This was what it would have felt like if Sergio worked with her in the police department as their forensic specialist. Unfortunately for her, however, Sergio decided to pursue a teaching career in Forensic Anthropology, which suited him very well, it seems. It was her first time seeing the professor in a teaching position. Undeniably, it was a side of Sergio she wasn't well acquainted with.

She knew his introverted side, the one who'd prefer the company of a plain, boring textbook than join in on the festivities around him. She was undoubtedly the most frequent recipient of his sweet, gentleman side, the one he rarely shows others, but the one who'd sacrifice time for himself to give you company, because he was well aware of how much his presence calms you down. Raquel has always been amazed by his smart side, the one where you can't help but be impressed by the amount of knowledge he has in a vast number of topics.

But not this side. Something about it makes her stomach churn.

Not a long while later, all the students' attention is glued to their notes and paper, scribbling all possible answers with such a limited time. Only one person in the room was laid back in her seat, her enclosed fist covered her nose and mouth, still giving her a layer of protection. She eyed Sergio and willed him to look back at her.

He stopped pacing, looking around the room, ensuring that everyone was taking their sweet time answering his task. In the middle of his observation, his eyes caught sight of a very familiar baseball cap. One he brought home from Connecticut. The temporary owner adjusted it on her head, giving him a clearer look of her face; he could swear he saw her wink.

For the first time since the lecture started, he smiled. And even with the crowd of a hundred students between them, she knew it was for her. He lowered his head to the ground, trying to hide the lopsided grin that was plastered on his face. The professor refused to let his students know that his weakness was in sight.

Soon, he concluded his class, giving them a few reminders before their final exams. The students left the room one by one. A little too slowly, to Raquel's disappointment. As the last ones left the hall, she slowly walked toward the stairs to reach him as he was fixing his belongings scattered on the desk.

She reached for him, wrapping her arms around his waist. "Hey!"

"Hey," he echoed, placing his hands on top of hers in response. "What are you doing here?"

Raquel showed him the paper bag in her hands. "Cooked you lunch. I had free time today."

"You could have waited in my office instead of having to listen to my lecture." Sergio deposited the last of his belongings to the black briefcase bag that was settled on the desk.

She stepped over and leaned on the table, "but then, I wouldn't have seen you teach, Professor." Raquel purred in a low voice.

He gulped at the flirtatious tone of her voice before mirroring her inflection. "And what have you learned?"

Raquel flashed a wicked grin at him. "Potassium Chloride and Tylenol overdose." She referred to his question earlier. Years of training in the academy and practice was still not lost on her. The former Inspectora had to brush on her chemistry notes for a case she worked on relating to medicinal tampering almost a decade ago.

He smiled and gave a nod of acknowledgment. "It was, however, Acetaminophen." Sergio stood in front of her, his tall frame hovering over the woman. His hands subtly reached out to her left palm, his fingers brushing to where her "engagement" ring was sitting.

"I, however," she reflected his teasing tone, "am still correct."

"Smart girl," was his only response. He moved his lips closer to his ears as he whispered, sending a shiver down her spine. She could only pray that he didn't notice the way her breath hitched.

The echo of the heavy door slamming shut startled them both. It produced two of his students, who were apparently looking for the bag that was left in the front row. Sergio quickly shuffled away from their previous, scandalous position.

The professor felt abashed as his face flushed a tint of red. Raquel found herself biting her lip to suppress the rather loud laughter that would erupt from her if she didn't. She turned to glance at the students who were shuffling outside the room, embarrassed by the state they saw their esteemed department chair in. From a distance, she heard his students' faint giggles as they left the lecture hall in a hurry.

"Let's get you out of here before anyone else sees us." Sergio grabbed his bag and placed the strap on his left shoulder. In his right hand, was Raquel's left palm. With a flushed grin, they both left the place, a repeat of their previous state playing on loop in Raquel's mind.

Raquel made herself at home in Sergio's office while he met with the school's administrative body. It was a corner office with enormous windows that allows natural light to seep into the room. On one side is a rather large shelf filled with medical books, journals, and dissertations. Pushed against the wall are figures of various body systems, each labeled with parts, and a miniature diorama of a crime scene Raquel gave him for his 10th anniversary of him teaching.

To say that his office was interesting was an understatement. Even with all the academe paraphernalia lying around, it spoke of the owner very well. Her favorite, among all things, is a picture of them on his birthday, Sergio holding the camera up with his right hand, and a rather tipsy Raquel is pressed to his side, embraced in his left arm. Raquel settled on his desk, suddenly feeling powerful. A king's throne, indeed.

In the midst of her reign, a knock on the glass door startled her. "Hey, Sergio, I need your—" The female voice sounded familiar. Raquel looked up to where the sound came from. Leila Cresswell. Sergio’s half-British, half-Spanish ex-girlfriend he met while he was working in Barcelona, a year after he came home from the United States. Raquel didn't know he worked with her.

The actress only met his ex-girlfriend one time. When she visited him in Barcelona.

* * *

_ Raquel held on tight to their promise that nothing would come between them: not Yale, not Avila, not Barcelona. He found in his stay in the United States, that not even distance or differences in time zones will separate the two childhood friends. The past months, however, proved them wrong.  _

_ Work came into the picture, and what seemed to be daily calls, became weekly check-ups, to bi-monthly texts. Sergio's been busy with his work as an assistant professor in a university in Barcelona, while Raquel had her mind clouded with cases that required her full attention. Neither professionals noticed that it's been a year since they last saw each other.  _

_ The newly promoted inspector beamed with pride as she boarded the train en route to Sergio's current city of residence. Raquel slipped in a window seat and waited for the engines to come to life. And so, the 4-hour wait began. The breath she held went unnoticed until the cityscape rolled into view.  _

_ A cab ride and a few minutes of searching for the right address, Raquel found herself in front of his apartment. She muttered a simple prayer of encouragement before knocking on his door. "Sergio!" She called out.  _

_ A woman in a silk robe with her face made up opened the door. She must have knocked in the wrong unit. Raquel was about to apologize and move along when the woman's red lips moved. "He's still in the bathroom. Is he expecting you to come over?"  _

_ Raquel was certain she sent him a few texts announcing her visit. "I assume so," she decided on an answer. "You must be?" She trailed off, waiting for the woman before her to introduce herself.  _

_ The woman gave her a radiant smile. "Leila Cresswell."  _

_ Raquel remembered the name. Sergio mentioned that he went out with a colleague once. What he forgot to relay, however, was that they were still together. "His girlfriend, right?"  _

_ "Right." A confused look made its way to Leila's face, "and you're?"  _

_ "Raquel." She extended her right hand, but the other woman only stared at it. "He's my... friend." She settled on the term. Raquel's not even sure she was still entitled to that label. They rarely talked, and when they do, it would end up in toxic bickering. What they had was an estranged connection, but Raquel was determined to make amends.  _

_ "Weird," Leila spoke with an uninterested tone. "He has not mentioned you at all. Would you like to come in?" Her pitch suddenly changed, a little higher than before. Raquel swore there was a hint of passive aggressiveness hidden somewhere.  _

_ Raquel's hand settled in her pocket. "If you don't mind." _

_ The apartment was homely, to say the least, like a woman had decorated it. A color scheme was followed by most of the furniture in the two-bedroom unit: off white and a pastel yellow. Paintings of the same monochromatic hue adorned the walls. While it did look lived in, the lack of feminine items in the house inferred that Sergio lived alone. Raquel didn't know why she suddenly felt relieved.  _

_ Leila broke her trance, "would you like a drink?"  _

_ "Whiskey?" Raquel joked, recalling that Sergio would always a bottle for her. "No, no need. I'll just wait for Sergio. Thanks."  _

_ "Make yourself at home, Raquel. There’s coffee on the maker and the cups are on the cupboard." Raquel gave Sergio's girlfriend a fake smile and the woman in question retreated to the room on the left.  _

_ The inspector surveyed the apartment once more. When Raquel boarded the train en route to Barcelona, she expected a heartwarming welcome from Sergio, not vile looks from his girlfriend she didn't know was in the picture until now. With an overwhelmed emotion, the visitor rummaged through the cupboards, in search of any alcoholic beverages, to no avail. Raquel delicately walked back to the living room, suddenly feeling unwelcome.  _

_ On her journey back, a cold body bumped into hers, rendering her unbalanced. A strong, firm arm caught her waist. "Sorry, Lei—Raquel?" _

_ Her breath hitched for what seemed the thousandth time today. "Sergio." His upper torso was bare, water droplets, dripping from his dismantled mane, then crawling down to his chest and arms. A towel covered the lower part of his body, his left hand gripping on the knot too tightly. Raquel willed herself to not lower her gaze.  _

_ His eyebrows sewed together, "what are you doing here?"  _

_ "Didn't you get my—" Raquel asked, surely if he did, he won't be too surprised to see her. "Can we talk?" She shifted the subject.  _

_ "Sure. I'll just—" Sergio pointed to his room.  _

_ Raquel bit her lip in embarrassment and moved backward, allowing Sergio to retreat to his bedroom. Great, not even a few minutes into their conversation and they already fell to an awkward position. She didn't want to know how their future talks would fare out.  _

_ The couch was made with a soft, fine, material that Raquel would have appreciated in normal circumstances, but she can't help but feel the irritating fabric graze on her clothes as she sat stiffly on the furniture. Her eyes burned through the surrealist painting that was hung across her. Raquel didn't even what she was doing in his living room.  _

_ She heard faint voices from his bedroom followed by the quiet creak of the door closing. His footsteps resounded in the unit as he walked toward her. He wore a suit jacket, one of his more expensive ones, and a crisp white shirt underneath. His infamous grey tie was no where to be found.  _

_ "So," he started, not knowing what to say.  _

_ "You and Leila, huh?" Raquel decided on a safe topic.  _

_ "Yeah." Sergio softly smiled as he sat next to her. "She was with me the whole—" _

_ She cut him off before she could even stop herself. "Time when you couldn't tell me what was going on with you?" Raquel could have possibly imagined a thousand ways to how this conversation was going to happen, but she didn't fathom it'd start with her being indifferent. _

_ Sergio knotted his eyebrows, "Raquel, I—" _

_ "It's fine, Sergio. I'm glad you have someone."  _

_ Her voice pierced through his skin. It physically hurt him to listen to her sound this vile and indifferent, but it was nothing compared to what he felt for years. It scathed through him to not be able to tell her that he needs her, especially in his rock bottom state. The only person who could lift the anchor pushing him deeper into the ocean and he couldn't reach her. Not that Raquel was aware of any of that.  _

_ He met Leila when he was at his lowest point. Sergio has always been an independent man, but for the first time, he felt himself extend to someone for help. Gradually, he felt like himself once again. He knew he owed that to Leila.  _

_ Sergio gave an awkward nod, satisfied with her answer. "Why did you come here?" _

_ "I got a promotion," she announced, albeit lacking pride. "I wanted to celebrate with you. I told you over the text, didn't I?" _

_ The professor pushed his glasses further up his nose. "I haven't received anything." Raquel found genuine confusion in his face, so she let his excuse go.  _

_ "And you also wouldn't answer my calls." His eyes turned apologetic and Raquel figured that he deliberately left them to ring. Tears started to sting in her eyes, but she won't let it fall. "Are we okay, Sergio?"  _

_ "We are." He replied curtly.  _

_ "It's been a year, Sergio." Raquel huffed, "I thought Yale and Barcelona won't change anything for us?"  _

_ "Raquel, we're both adults." He replied as if it explained everything.  _

_ "Yes, and adults know how to communicate with each other. Why can't you do that with me?" What made up for Raquel's reluctance to beg for him to talk to her was the softness of her voice.  _

_ Sergio formed his mouth into a sharp line, "I've moved past that, Raquel, please." He said with a firm, loud voice. _

_ He stood up, ready to leave, but she followed suit and grabbed his hand. A jolt of electricity weaved through her. "Sergio, what happened?" He was standing so close to her now, his fingers moving, almost reaching out to her, but never arriving.  _

_ As if the universe conspired against Raquel, Leila chose the exact moment to re-emerge from the bedroom. The woman practically glowed. Her hair was blow-dried, curled, and left to settle on one shoulder. Her midnight blue dress hugged her waist and hips perfectly, Raquel could already imagine Sergio's hands resting on her curves. The black pumps on her feet accentuated her long legs. On her hand was the tie that was missing from her partner's ensemble.  _

_ "Is everything okay?" Her sweet voice filled the gap between Raquel and Sergio. The former removed her hand from the man in the room. _

_ Sergio looked back and forth to the two women before him, and one last longing look to his old friend. "Nothing's wrong." He replied, which seemed to satisfy Leila.  _

_ The said woman stepped closer to Sergio, her manicured hands gracefully knotting his necktie for him. It wasn't the time for Raquel to lament over past actions. "Are we ready to go?" Leila asked as she brushed the non-existent dust from his suit jacket.  _

_ "I guess I'll go. I'm sorry for barging in." Raquel headed to the door. There was no place for her here. Or in Sergio's life for that matter. Not in the next few months, at least. "Enjoy your date." She said, defeated.  _

_ "Raquel..." Sergio stalled her movement. She glanced at him one last time, drinking in his figure. "I'm sorry." Raquel gave him an assuring smile before she closed the door. She didn't even allow him to tell her what he was apologetic for.  _

_ Sorry that he wasn't able to spend the day with her? Sorry that he shut her off every time she reached out for the past year? Sorry that their conversations ended up with one person slamming the telephone shut? Sorry that she paid penance for something she did not even do? Raquel was uninterested in his answer.  _

_ Raquel walked hastily out of his apartment, shaking away the embarrassment she felt in his damned unit. She glanced to her back every now and then, hoping that he'd come after her and that they'd finally put the hurt behind them. But all that answered was the cold Barcelonian air that cradled her face in comfort. No tears will be shed tonight, Raquel determined herself.  _

_ The orange hue of the sun rained on her skin and reflected on her honey-colored irises, as her heeled boots graced the Mediterranean streets of the city. A wave of nostalgia hit her as the mini-restaurants on the alleyways reminded her of the wonderful afternoon they could have had, had they been in different circumstances.  _

_ Raquel picked a coffee shop in front of a museum, the one near the train station. That's where she spent the next few hours, cradling a large cup of black coffee in her hands, observing the people before her. Families. Couples. Solo travelers. Tourists. Friends. She made simple scenarios and storylines for them, in a desperate attempt to distract herself.  _

_ The tears that Raquel was trying to keep in finally fell as her back felt the cold leather seat of the train back to Madrid. And when they fell, her tears wouldn't stop streaming down her face. With a suppressive hand, she covered her mouth to tame the sobs that threatened to come out. Her vision slowly became blurry as the city's skyline faded into darkness.  _

_ Raquel's chest tightened, her throat left raw even with her muffled cries. She still didn't know what happened, but she not only lost her best friend. She also lost an integral part of herself and her life. Confusion settled in her as cried her way home. Her sobs tamed down after about an hour in, and she spent the next few hours trying to ease into slumber.  _

* * *

The actress shook the memory away, "sorry, he's not here." She looked to the raven-haired woman standing under Sergio's office's entryway.

"I see that." Leila stepped in, clutching a folder near her chest.

Raquel cocked her head in confusion, "I didn't know you work here."

"I do." The biologist beamed with pride. "We both were offered a teaching position here straight from Barcelona. Didn't he tell you?"

"He didn't have to."

"Must have slipped his mind then," the woman's red painted lip widened in mockery. "Not that it's likely of him to be forgetful."

"He doesn’t have to tell me everything. We trust each other." Raquel chose that moment to prop her left arm on the table, her head leaning into her palm. The actress discreetly hoped she knew enough of physics for the light to reflect on the gemstones nestled on her ring.

"You finally enticed him to bite into your bait, huh?"

Raquel glared at her. "What do you want, Leila?"

"Nothing. Congratulations on the engagement." The biologist gracefully placed the folder on his table. "Nice ring. The one he showed me looked better though." Then she left, the sound of her stilettos clicking on the wooden floor annoyed Raquel to no end.

The actress reviewed the folder and its contents when another knock was placed on Sergio's office door. An irritated groan rolled from her lips before she could stop herself. "He's at a meeting, and I'm not his secretary."

"You'd be a cute secretary, though." Raquel looked up. It was Sergio, apologetically smiling at her. "Sorry, it took me long."

"Would you like your seat back?" Raquel motioned to stand up, but Sergio waved her off.

"No," he replied, "it suits you better." A queen on her king's throne, then.

"Suit yourself." His visitor pushed her back further into the furniture.

He grabbed the folder in his desk and read through the papers inside. "I see you've met Leila."

She fought the urge to roll her eyes. "I did."

"I hope she didn't bother you."

"She didn't," she lied.

But, the man before her saw through her pretense. "She did."

"Her presence just..." Raquel paused, looking for the perfect word. "riles me up."

"I'm here now." He reached for her hand in an attempt to calm her down.

She waved her hand in dismissal. "How did your meeting go?" Raquel held up the brown paper bag she brought him, producing two lunch boxes.

The scent of the homemade dish permeated through the air. "It went well. Another university offered me a teaching position."

"Where to?"

"Romania."

"And?" She asked, not sure what she'd make of the answer.

"Another university turned down." The forensics professor received job offers from renowned universities around the continent, but he always turned them down, speaking of how Madrid is his home no matter what. Raquel believed it to be a passing phase. There would come a time where an opportunity would come his way and he'd finally be courageous enough to grasp it.

Raquel decided not to push it. "Whatever you think is best for you, Sergio."

"Now tell me why you're really here." Sergio nagged before taking another spoonful of his meal.

"I've missed you is all. Can't I meet my fiancé in his workplace?" Raquel teased, an enchanting smile reaching her hazelnut irises.

Sergio, however, did not fall prey to her tantalizing look. "Don't play coy me. Something's bothering you so much, it can't wait until Saturday." Raquel glanced at the calendar on his desk and found that it was only a Wednesday. For her fatigue o'clock, it was already a Friday night. The one where exhaustion overwhelms your body that you'd want nothing more than to plop down on your bed right after work.

He proved to be right once again with his hypothesis. "I went to see my therapist the other day."

Sergio immediately sat up, worry washing over his face. "What happened? How are you feeling?"

"Alberto tried to call me the other day. It wouldn't stop ringing." Raquel narrated the gist of what happened, playing nonchalantly.

Her ex-husband called after a phone interview in a radio network. Raquel missed his calls for the first three times; the actress hesitated to answer anything from an unknown number, but the caller was persistent, she picked up after the seventh call. His voice was enough to paralyze her on her spot, her chest tightening and her breaths suddenly shallow and unrelenting. When she finally gained control of her nerves once again, she immediately dropped the call. He called a few more times after that.

It wasn't until later that she called her psychiatrist, a move that she should have done immediately, but didn't have the strength nor will to do so.

"That fucking bastard," Sergio cursed, anger seething through his words. "How are you now?" He returned his attention to the woman before him, his eyes suddenly comforting. A contrast of what seemed to be the raging seas a minute before.

Raquel nodded, "the doctor prescribed me some medications if the attacks persist." She gave him a warm smile, hoping it's enough to reassure her well being.

"Did you block his number?"

"Of course, I did." Raquel deadpanned. She may not be feeling herself the day it happened, but she still had a little common sense left in her.

"Good." He decided. Sergio reached for her left hand, his palm on nestled on top of hers. His thumb gently brushing over her knuckles in a soft, comforting way. "I'm sorry I wasn't there."

Raquel brought their intertwined hands to her cheek and nuzzled it. "You're here now."

* * *

They found themselves hanging around Raquel's apartment once again after their "surprise" lunch date. An overwhelming amount of paperwork scattered on her dining table, with Sergio on the furthest seat, a cup of coffee by his side (with sugar and creamer, to Raquel's distaste). The house owner was pacing in front of the bar counter, her right hand on her waist and her left thumb succumbed between her teeth, waiting for the goddamned laptop to load her e-mail inbox. The actress just received a text from her manager to check for a message from her talent agency.

Raquel let out a sound that was a combination of a squeal of delight and a scream of terror. Sergio soon appeared behind her, a confused look plastered on his weary face. "What is it?"

The damsel in distress pointed to the laptop screen. "The agency just emailed me." The professor walked near her, his hand brushing her hips in the softest way to compel her to move aside. He narrowed his eyes and saw that it was an e-mail about Three Lives Left. He recognized it as the movie she gushed about on and on, the reason why they were in this situation in the first place.

Sergio sensed the anxiousness in her behavior. "Would you like me to read it for you?"

"Please, if you don't mind." Raquel moved away from the kitchen counter and turned her back from them. "If it's bad news, don't say anything. I'll know."

"Alright," he replied. Raquel heard the faint tap of her touchpad and took a breath, waiting for Sergio to say anything. Nothing followed.

Disappointed, Raquel turned to Sergio, "I didn't get it?" Her voice falling to a monotonous melody.

A smug look flashed on his face. "Should I call you Julieta now?"

"What?"

"You got it!" He announced, a proud smile reaching his eyes.

Raquel unconsciously wrapped her arms around his neck and placed her lips clumsily on his. He was rendered unbalanced by the magnitude of her emotions, the coldness of the kitchen counter scathing on his back. It took Sergio a while to respond, shock jolting through him, but soon found his hands lost in her tresses.

With a flushed face and a breathless sound, she muttered, "sorry." The actress bit her lip in embarrassment as she avoided her gaze and tried to even her breathing. All she could hear now was her erratic pulses.

Sergio, however, was not having it. He grabbed the back of her neck, pulled her back to him again and switched their places, pinning Raquel to the marble counter. He kissed her again. And again. And again. He left both parties irrationally out of breath.

Her hands traveled to his hair, his chest, his waist, his jawline, but she settled on the lapels of his shirt, pulling him closer to her, unwilling to let him go. The last time they found themselves in this position, they didn't see each other for three years.

After what seemed to be hours, they pulled away, resting their foreheads together. Raquel was still trapped in between his arms, holding her up. She held on to him, knowing that her knees would fail her if he let go.

His eyes finally met her. A dark, flushed look was evident in his eyes, then it was replaced by an unfamiliar gaze. A glance of adoration and intimacy. Of warmth and devotion. Like he would worship the very ground she would walk on. Raquel had a hard time focusing her eyes on his; her gaze kept retreating to his mouth, determined to place it back where it was earlier. The flushed woman unconsciously leaned closer, but the fingers he placed on her lips stalled her.

Sergio was the first to break their reverie. "Alright, I'm kicking myself out."

Raquel was taken out of her dreamy haze, "what? Why?" She was surprised by the tone of her voice.

"I can't focus with you around." She gave him a proud, little smile, pleased with her work that she finally was able to dismantle the stone-like core of a man like Sergio. "Besides, you need to announce the news to your family."

She conceded, her tone falling. "Okay."

"Okay." He echoed. Reluctantly, he finally removed the hands that were pinning her and moved to gather his paperwork from the dining table. Raquel took the time to observe her fiance.

She liked his professional look: the one where he dons a suit jacket and can compel the room to listen to his words, but she can't deny that she loved this look better than anything. His jacket tossed somewhere, his hair disheveled (Raquel admired her work), the crisp, white shirt, now wrinkled, and folded up to his elbows.

He came up to her a few minutes later, his black briefcase bag slung on his left shoulder, his suit jacket neatly hanging on his right arm.

She led him to the door, unwilling to see him off. "We'll talk soon?" Her teeth sinking on her bottom lip. It was her tell that she was embarrassed and flustered.

"We will," he promised as he set foot out of the door. He looked back to her one last time, his palm sliding from her forearm before stopping on her wrists. "Good night, Raquel. Congratulations."

"Good night, Sergio." She wanted to step forward, plant her lips on his cheek, or hold his hand, or give him a hug, anything to keep the intimacy alive. But she knew that she'd be treading on dangerous grounds. So she settled on a warm smile.

Raquel saw him off until he was able to safely enter his car. She shut the door behind her as she heard the engine of his car roaring through the street then fading out. After gaining control of her senses once again, she declared the news to her mother and sister, who were livid at her announcement, then to her friends who insisted on celebratory wine night.

In an attempt to shake off the intoxication from her body, Raquel found herself inspired enough to start a screenplay. One that she had in her mind for weeks. Sergio always pushed her to write one, but she never found the courage to do so.

Her thoughts, however, were not in the screenplay she was trying to write nor her new film. It flew straight to man who was softly holding her up in his arms earlier. Not even an hour has passed but her body is already yearning for the warmth he yielded as he was pressed up against her. The thoughts of his lips pressed against her mouth, playing an unforgiving game of tug of war, exhilarated her.

_ Oh, Sergio, what have you done?  _


	9. Chapter 9

An avid traveler would argue that the next best thing in traveling save from the destination is the journey toward it. The riveting feeling of your flight taking off, coursing through the sea of clouds, a few hours of serene and quiet, right before the adventure begins. The stomach-churning feeling of being one with the ocean as your ship weaves through the waves, the sea breeze clinging to your clothes. The drive on an isolated highway, the orange hue of the sun softly kissing your face as you scream out the words to your favorite songs with your friends.

Anticipation trumps over the destination. The chase. The longing glances. The agonizing wait. That's what Raquel has been doing for the past weeks. Wait.

Sergio proved to keep his word and showed up to some of her interviews and photoshoots, being the doting fiancé he promised to be. But what never came was the talk. They steered every conversation that nears the topic away from them, unwilling to open up. Frankly, Raquel used to enjoy this tiptoeing around each other, just waiting for someone to slip and the other to catch them, but the actress was growing tired of dancing around. They're way too old for that.

Like the candelabras hanging overhead in this old Victorian-era inspired hotel Andres decided to put his art exhibit in. Dimmed yellow lights danced around the room, giving the hall a museum-like ambiance. Panelboards are placed strategically in front of each other, ensuring that all of Andres' works are seen and appreciated. Various paintings in different art movements adorned the place, the vivid colors making a contrast against the ash painted boards.

The actress had been to many art exhibits like these, her guilty pleasure it seems, but she found herself constantly at awe with the artworks surrounding her. What caught her eye, however, is a painting of what seemed to be two toddlers, one with an Uncle Sam bowler hat and a wristwatch, while the other had a rather enormous eyeball in lieu of its head. Raquel leaned in to catch the details; the vertical strokes and dried oil paint created a wonderful texture to the work.

The spectator tried to make anything of the diverse elements but to no avail. It's one of the things that she found interesting with art. Varying interpretations will be always up for debate, and nobody will be deemed triumphant. There is no such thing as objective art.

The painter himself strolled near his observer, a tall, champagne glass nestled in his fingers. "Surrealism," Andres said, tipping the glass toward his work.

"You're quite the painter, Andres." Raquel complimented. "Magritte?" The actress queried, asking him who his inspirations were.

The artist shook his head, "No. Dali."

"Ah. Clockwork." Her eyes flitted to the wristwatch on the child. A minuscule smile crawled to her mouth as it reminded her of the one Sergio always wore. "I'm impressed."

"If you want to appreciate my work, that'd be three thousand euros." Andres presented. If he talked to all of his visitors this way—making small talk, then making a segue to business talk—he'd be selling out in hours. "Three thousand and two hundred for you, _hermanito_."

Raquel could feel the man in question's arm wrap around her waist, radiating a warmth that she didn't realize she needed previously. The actress cozied up to his touch. "Ah, yes. Back with your money-laundering schemes again, I see."

Andres clapped Sergio's forearm, then tapped his cheeks in mockery. "How are you, _hermanito_? I can't believe you're a ladies' man, and to Raquel no less. I do hope he doesn't prove to be a burden in your domesticated life, Raquel."

The actress gave a sweet smile. "He's not. Though he proves to be awfully quiet these past few weeks." She raised an eyebrow and glanced at the man by her side, hoping Sergio got her message. "I'd very much rather listen to Enrique Iglesias all day than sit in silence." The actress exaggerated.

"The horrors," the painter hopped in. "I'll send over some vinyl records for you to listen. I wouldn't want my sister-in-law to resolve to silence because my brother prefers to live like a hermit." 

Sergio did not seem to be too amused with Raquel and Andres' interaction. The first conversation the two had for years, and they team up against Sergio. The professor's eyes bored into his brother's. "I was only kidding, Sergio. Congratulations on your engagement."

The two brothers, who seemed to not have seen each other for months, caught up. The actress eagerly listened to the conversation, quietly admiring the two men in front of her. Andres was not the brother you would typically ask for, but he proved to be present for Sergio in his time of need. Behind his turbulent façade lies a man who holds his family first above others.

Eventually, Andres had to excuse himself to tend to his other spectators. Sergio, sensing Raquel's change of demeanor towards him, left her to her own devices, which seemed to agitate her more. A wave of guilt washed through her, maybe she shouldn't have urged him to talk about it. After all, Sergio was known to rarely show emotions.

Her eyes flitted back to the painting before her. She is suddenly reminded of how patient and generous he was with her. Maybe it's time for her to return the favor. Raquel made a mental note to talk to Andres about the painting.

The actress roamed around the place, giving each work an appreciative look and glancing around for any sign of Sergio, but what met her gaze were art enthusiasts who were keen on listening to Andres' interpretation of his works. Feeling out of place, Raquel exited to the hallway and looked for the only other place Sergio could possibly be as of the moment. She quickly climbed up a flight of stairs and pushed the metal door before her. True enough, his back, along with the Madrid skyline greeted her.

"Did you know that I had to threaten security that I would punch him if he won't let me in? How did you get here anyway?" Not true. Raquel was lucky enough that the security personnel was on a bathroom break when she trespassed.

He turned to look at the voice behind him. "I told them I saw a wanted criminal in the hallway." She smirked, wondering how he could have pulled it off.

Raquel neared the cemented bench and sat next to Sergio. "Why are you here?"

"Too many people in the function hall. Why did you follow me?" He said matter-of-factly. 

The actress shrugged, "and listen to Andres and Martin gush about their art? I'm not that pretentious." That earned her a smile from Sergio.

His gaze, however, returned to the sight before them. The blue, dark heavens and the orange sunset seemed to be at war, mixing together, but not quite so. On the other side of the sky, the goddess Nyx is already seated at her throne. Lights from the buildings seemed to glisten like the ones in Christmas trees, illuminating their windows one by one. The city turned to Vegas in a matter of minutes.

"Did you know how I got through Yale?" Sergio asked. Raquel shook her head, combing through her memories she had flagged down with the label 'Yale, Sergio.' "Every time that I feel homesick, I would go to my apartment's top floor and just stare out at the landscape, and I'd pretend that I'm back in Madrid."

"You don't tell a lot of stories about your time there." Yale and Avila was the one thing they kept from each other. After Sergio came home and moved to Barcelona, everything went downhill for both of them. When they finally put it past them, neither wanted to recall the months they spent fighting, including the year before that.

"I wasn't very fond of the memories. I was reaching my goals, but to whose expense?" Sergio looked at her, a glum look pasted on his face. Raquel failed to find the words to say. Her small smile a signal for him to go on. "It would look exactly like this," Sergio gestured to the scenery before them. "There's not much skyscrapers, but just enough to mirror this. Then I'd be okay for a while. You have this thing for cityscapes, and I thought that maybe I was keeping a part of you with me, even when you're halfway across the world."

All Raquel could muster was a few words. "You'll always have a part of me with you."

"I know. Sometimes I wish I had stayed behind." He confessed. Now, all Raquel could think of was made-up memories of the two of them: long drives and movie nights on Saturdays, family visits on Sundays, and maybe, something more.

"Why?" Raquel asked. _Sergio, don't hold back._

He did. "You know why."

She did know why. Moments of their last night together flashed in her mind. His hands on her back, softly caressing it as she sobbed helplessly on his shoulder. The warmth of their bodies against the cold air as they spent the night entangled in each other. Their desperate kisses brimmed with frustration and pent up emotions.

And there it is, her mind is once again filled with thoughts of his intoxicating lips against her. Years ago, before Yale, and then a few weeks ago, in her kitchen. Fuck.

Playing nonchalant was probably her best move. "Tell me more about Yale," Raquel asked, hoping that he didn't notice the sudden change in her behavior.

"What do you want me to tell you?"

"What do you do on the weekends? Except for study, you nerd." She may not know much of his life abroad, but she was well aware that he graduated top of his class. The framed diploma in his office said so.

"Well, aside from waiting for a call from certain police-in-training, I work." Her eyes widened in disbelief. "I write undergraduate theses for other people."

"You didn’t."

"Not exactly my most honorable achievement, but it did earn me money."

"How come you were never caught?" She queried, impressed with how Sergio survived his master's degree, mentally and financially.

"I never took medical-related dissertations. I took business management, sociology, foreign affairs, but never the sciences." He narrated as if it explained everything.

Raquel gave her best cop voice. "In that case, you’ve just admitted to being a criminal."

The accused raised his hands in surrender, a non-existent gun pointed at his head. "An unethical practitioner, but not a criminal. It's not forgery, it's called ghostwriting."

She angled her lips near his ear and laughed softly, her breath sending a shiver down his back. "If you told me this years ago, I would have flashed you my badge and cuffed you in."

His voice changed pitch, now an octave lower than his normal tone. "Now, wouldn’t that be quite unfortunate?"

Glued to her spot, Raquel did not flinch nor move back when Sergio placed his left hand on the nape of her neck, his finger toying with her auburn tresses. Inch by inch, he moved closer, his breath mixing in with hers. A dark look spreads in his eyes and she had to avoid his gaze before she's caught in them.

Raquel looked down and moved away. The distance between them is enough to fit all their doubts and regrets for the past years. "We still haven’t talked. You’re avoiding it." Her voice, weary.

"And you’re not?" He retorted. It seems that she wasn't alone in this after all.

"That’s different." Raquel explained, "I was waiting. Not avoiding."

"We never really were good at this emotion thing, huh?"

Raquel fixed her gaze on the ground. "Well, my past relationships include boring men and an abusive ex-husband. And you have two ex-girlfriends in your entire lifetime. We’re not exactly the best at that department."

He nodded. Sergio looked at her sincerely, the softness in her eyes is enough to make up for the words that are left unsaid. "I like—" He started, "I like what we have. Whatever this is." His hands found hers and never strayed. All her doubts dissipated within a second.

If she could capture this moment, she would. Their palms clasped together, his cradling hers, like she was the most fragile thing in the world. Their shoulders brushing against each other, and in the wake of the night, even the slightest touch of intimacy was enough. Just two friends in pursuit of tranquility and Words failed her. Her small hands tugged his large ones. “Come on, take me home.”

* * *

_Sergio eyed the distressed woman in front of him. Left. Right. Left. Right. “Stop pacing.” He said, looking back from his copy of 1984._

_She stopped and put her arms on her waist. “I'm not pacing.” Raquel looked like a young profesora with her hair tied in a knot, secured by a pencil and her current posture._

_“You are.” He reasoned, but she was already back to her little bubble._

_Once again, she paced around. Left. Right. Left. Right. “I met a man; I let him throw me around the bed. I met a man who took me for walks; long ones in the—fuck. I told you, I'm not pacing.”_

_Sergio sighed, “you open tomorrow night, why are you still not off-book?”_

_The libretto in her hands almost flew across the room. “Because I'm an irresponsible member of the theatre who was given a lead role, the only role, to be precise, and I still wasn't motivated enough to do my job properly.” The actress exasperated._

_Raquel yearned for the role the moment their theatre company announced that they received rights for the show. It featured a two-hour monologue about a young woman’s journey from childhood to adulthood, weaved with the tragedies almost every woman faces as they walk through life. After a rigorous audition process, she’s been called back as the principal for the lead role. The directors were certain that she was perfect for it. The actress herself, however, was still experiencing quite a stage fright. Not only was the role heavy enough to put pressure on her back, but it was also the first lead role she landed in college._

_“Liar. You memorized that weeks ago.”_

_“What?” Raquel narrowed her eyes at his statement._

_“You talk in your sleep.” Sergio deadpanned, as if it explained everything. He extended his right hand. “Give me your script.”_

_“What?” Raquel repeated._

_“I'm going to teach you something.” Raquel almost gave in, the thick stack of paper faintly touching his open palm, “and what do you know about performing, mister-I'd-rather-be-dead-than-beseen-on-stage?”_

_“Not much,” he admitted. “I use this for when I'm studying for my exams.” Raquel handed him her script, then sat next to him in the dining table._

_He pulled the pencil from her hair, allowing her tresses to cascade down her shoulder. He stood up, his chest near her back. Raquel was sure that if she turned to him, their lips would—she refused to think about it. “These are your checkpoints,” Sergio explained, underlining the first lines of every paragraph. “You memorize the first lines and when you reach a certain point, it'll get easier.”_

_If her gaze could burn, her script would have already set fire. "I’ll never get this right."_

_"You will." His statement was already a testimony of how her performance would fare out._

_"Promise me you’ll be there." She raised her pinky finger, a gesture of promise that Raquel only touches on when she's on the verge of a distressful phenomenon._

_Sergio wrapped his little finger against hers. "I wouldn’t miss it for the world."_

_There is quite a spectrum of emotions every performer feels as they step their foot on stage. Nervousness. Uneasiness. Conditioning. Bargaining. Excitement. Elation. Not exactly in that order. Raquel, however, was in a state of anxiety and ecstasy. More of the former than the latter._

_From the wings of the stage, the actress could witness the audience fill the velvet seats one by one. The sound of their chatter combined with the enchanting prelude music permeated through the theatre. It wasn't the largest one in the city, only housing 800 theatergoers at a time, but for her, the number was already overwhelming. She could literally feel her stomach churn at the thought._

_There were about a hundred people in her line of sight, but she only looked for one person. A 6-foot-tall man, donning black-rimmed glasses and disheveled hair. He would be wearing what could be the most crisp white shirt underneath his suit jacket. Unfortunately for her, it was theatre etiquette to wear something more formal—she wouldn't find him in their patrons._

_Feeling hopeless with Sergio's absence, she muttered a simple prayer, hoping that she won't forget any of her lines. She wasn't even anything remotely close to religious, but Raquel was determined not to mess anything up. The resounding echo of chimes filled the area, signaling that the show will start in a few moments. The actress took a deep breath and stepped center stage._

_The theatre went dark, a sole light shone before her eyes, drowning the sea of people who seemed to be her jury. Despite the haunting music that served to be her ambient, all she could hear was her own heartbeat._

_Then she heard her voice. A little softer than she intended to, no thanks to her anxiety. After her apprehension then came exhilaration. The feeling of finally soaring up in the clouds after a turbulent take-off. The stage, the lights, the audience did not feel foreign at all. She went on, paragraph by paragraph, feeling more at ease with her role after every page she turns in her mind. And Raquel, amid her self-doubt, took off. For two hours, she was able to pretend that she was someone else. She was stripped off of anything that reminded her of herself as she stepped in the shoes of the young woman._

_The role of the young woman was heavy. Unnamed, to generalize the experience of women—abused, harassed, belittled in different ways. The material was minimal, a monologue that narrated her voyage to womanhood, but the lack of other elements on stage worked, compelling the audience to focus on the actress and her character. The show was disturbingly intimate, to say the least. It was sexually arousing. It was thought-provoking. It was aggravating. The story of the young woman acted as a test of stability for the audience members._

_She took a long breath before she proclaimed her final lines. Darkness engulfed her and then came silence. The lights overhead rained on her, glistening the tears from her eyes. If it was because of the story she narrated, or because she just finished their first night, she didn't know, but the feeling of elation finally came. The actress reveled in the applause that resounded in the theatre. It felt like hours before she was able to take her final bow._

_Hugs and another round of applause greeted her backstage. The stage manager, the director, the sound designer, and other members of the production waiting for her. Her eyes, however, focused on the only person she'd been yearning to see. Sergio._

_She ran to him, "hey!"_

_"Hey." Sergio gave her a lopsided grin, pride glistening in his eyes._

_"I thought you wouldn’t come," Raquel replied, a little breathless._

_He presented her with a bouquet of flowers. Poppies and roses. "The owner had a little run-in with another customer. Had to wait for another twenty minutes."_

_"It’s alright," She smiled against the bouquet. "Thank you for the flowers."_

_In spite of the chatters and murmurings around them, he was all he could hear._

_"Happy opening night." A smile of gratification was all she could give him._

_"You make me fly, Sergio. Thank you." She wrapped her free hand around his torso and nuzzled against him._

_"Don’t fly too close to the sun," Sergio replied, his lips barely touching her forehead._

* * *

Raquel woke up on the wrong side of the bed. It's also definitely not her bed. She turned to her back, expecting to see Sergio fast asleep, but it was empty. What greeted her was the digital clock on his bedside table bearing the numbers: 10:21 AM. Shit, she overslept again. Her habit tracker is definitely not hearing about this.

She quickly did her morning routine, thankful for the spare toothbrush and her overnight bag found in Sergio's bedroom. She stripped off the black cocktail dress from the night before and changed into something more comfortable. Her working clothes varied from jeans and a button-down shirt to something more formal. Her armor today, however, was a loose shirt and a pair of dolphin shorts.

The actress grabbed the spare copy of her script she left with her overnight bag and headed outside. She found him, back turned to her, as he prepared coffee. He wore a plain shirt and grey sweatpants, an indication that he did his Saturday workout routine. Still in a rather hazy state, Raquel approached him and wrapped her arms around his torso.

"It's a weekend, why are you working?" She asked, her voice still half in slumber. Stacks of paper are laid on the coffee table in his living room, almost half of it filled with red marks. The professor seemed to be working since the wake of day and is in dire need of a strong caffeinated drink.

"The academe does not stop for the weekend." He replied wisely. "Why are you working?" He grabbed her script from her hand and placed it on the counter. He then turned around to give her a proper hug.

"Hollywood does not go on vacations. So do I." The actress reached across Sergio and made herself coffee. Black and bitter.

"Could we at least get an early lunch before we're enslaved by yet another capitalist apparatus?"

She nodded, quietly sipping from the mug she cradled in her palms. "Order from that pizza place you love."

Lunch was an anti-climatic affair, their thoughts clearly not on the person they were eating with. Raquel skimmed through her script, annotating certain parts with the pencil previously secured in her hair. The only time he spoke was when he invited her for a Sunday lunch with his mother. Apparently, her presence had been requested far too many times for Sergio to dodge the invitation. Raquel accepted, deciding that it was time to pay the woman who practically raised her (alongside her own mother, that is) a visit.

Comfortable silence blanketed over them. Moments later, he returned to his work in the living room, and the actress decided to settle in the kitchen, making the small area her arena for the day.

"Are you still busy?" Raquel emerged from the kitchen, her script in hand.

He looked up from his work on the table. "Almost done. Why?" "

I need help." She stated, holding up the stack of paper in her hand.

"For?"

"This. I can't seem to get my lines right." The actress plopped down on the couch, frustration visible on her face.

"And I would help how?" He asked, dividing his attention between Raquel and his paperwork.

"Line throwing," she replied. "I need to read it with someone. Otherwise, I won't feel the character."

The professor crossed out an entire paragraph on the paper he was reading before looking at her. "I thought you were doing character study?"

She prayed for the poor soul of the student he just gave an F mark to. "This is character study."

He held up his palm, gesturing her to wait. She complied-- since it was all she did for the past weeks. "Where do I start?" Sergio moved the stack of papers to the side and reached for her script.

"Here," Raquel pointed out a scene heading. The actress stood up, placing herself between Sergio and the coffee table. After a huff of breath and an internal chant, willing herself not to screw up, she nodded toward her fiancé, compelling him to start reading.

Sergio cleared his throat. "Scene 31. Exterior. A hideout in Yekaterinburg. Day. Yulia, Julieta's Russian identity, is seen limping around a small cabin in the woods." Raquel started to pace around the room, dragging her right leg to mirror the action block. "A bandage is wrapped around her leg wound. She flinched every time she moved, but she had to. She grabs her black bag from the corner and moved toward the door. Nikolai enters the small cabin, a bag of goods in his arms. His expression changes as he sees her trying to escape."

"Where are you going?" Sergio changed his voice slightly, helping her to get more in character. Raquel, however, almost broke hers. She found his change in demeanor quite hilarious.

Feeling unprofessional, she straightened her posture and pasted a rather hurt look on her face. "You can't expect me to stay here while they're on a witch hunt for my sister." Her voice was harsh. Not only was the hurt coming from her characters' body, it also was evident in her words.

Sergio continued Nikolai's pleas. "You can barely move. Stay." He returned to his monotonous narration. "Nikolai moves in front of her, stalling her movements."

Raquel spoke softly, "I can't."

The screenplay did not require Nikolai to hold her hand, but Sergio did. A jolt of electricity ran through Raquel. "Please," Sergio whispers.

Raquel did not want to let go, but Yulia had to. She softly yanked her hand from his. "If they see us together, you know they'll kill us, right?"

"No one would care!"

"The Jurors will! What will they say when they find out that I've fraternized with the enemy?" Emotions poured from her, tears stinging in her eyes. "Have you ever thought about what they might do to you? I can’t have any more blood on my hands."

Sergio looked down on her script before speaking. "Stay. One more night. Then I’ll go. I’ll find you wherever plane you are, anyway." He reached out to her once more, this time a little more firm than before. This time, unwilling to let go. All traces of Nikolai and Yulia dissipated in the room, and all was left were him and her. Raquel and Sergio. It has always been the two of them.

Without moving from his seat, Raquel felt his hand tugging her wrist, willing her to come closer. She turned to face him, kneeing the soft material of the furniture. With a gradual movement, she straddled him, pinning Sergio underneath her. His hands moved to her waist, his fingers toying with the hem of her shirt, leaving burn marks on her skin.

If she could tattoo his fingertips' track, she'd be donning a circular pattern on her skin. On her shoulder blades, on her waist, on the small of her back.

He leaned closer, his gaze shifting between her lips and her eyes. "The script says that you say “no,” and you turn away, not straddle Nikolai." He said, leaning away. Sergio laughed as he saw the disappointed look on her face. _What a fucking tease._

Sergio's right hand moved to her back, securing her in place, while his left hand caressed her thigh. Her breath hitched at the contact. Raquel couldn't focus on anything save for one thing. And it wasn't his words. "Shh," Her fingers stopped him from saying anything else.

Something flashed in his eyes. Frustration? Anticipation? Arousal? She couldn't point out, but she fixed her gaze on his. "Can I still do this?" He whispered against her, their lips barely touching.

"Shut up," Raquel said. He took it as a sign and placed his lips on hers. And the waltz began. She melted against his body, her knees, and his lap supporting her weight. His hands remained on her back, molding her into something that is his, and his alone.

His mouth went at war with hers, their breaths mixing together, but then again, neither needed air. All they needed was this. He bit her bottom lip, asking for entrance, which she willingly gave him. A soft moan escaped from her mouth. 

She pulled back, both of them rendered utterly breathless. "For the record, I like this. Whatever this is."

Sergio's smile felt like Christmas morning. "Took us long enough," he whispered. Raquel grabbed his shirt collar.

"Less talking, more—" He didn't even let her finish before he dove right back into her ocean.

He might be drowning, but he never needed saving anyway.

Not from her.

_Never from her._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's another chapter! Thank you for the support and the comments! These past weeks, it's been the only thing that kept me going. I hope you liked this chapter! It's not much, but it somehow is the calm before the storm. ;)
> 
> If anyone was wondering, the play mentioned above is entitled, "A Girl is a Half-formed Thing" written by Eimear McBride. I saw an excerpt of it, and I thought that it was really haunting and disturbing. If you have any means to watch a production of it, I strongly encourage you to do so! And "Three Lives Left" is somehow inspired by the YA novel, "A Thousand Pieces of You" by Claudia Gray.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your support and love! I hope you all like this chapter, you naughty people. Let me know your thoughts! I love you all! ♥️

_Three Lives Left Cast Revealed_

_Story by: Tina Cristobal | June 16, 2019_

_The film adaptation of the critically acclaimed novel is already on the works, headed by Liberty Films Productions and award-winning director Talia Garcia. The cast was revealed this morning on Un Nuevo Dia._

_Raquel Murillo and young rising star Ana Rodriguez will be sharing the role of Julia and Julieta respectively, while Gael Diaz and Leon Martinez will be splitting the role of Nico and Nicolas._

_The book is about the journey of a Julia from adolescence to adulthood, illegally traveling in between parallel universes. She meets Nicolas, who was sent to capture her and bring her back to her native plane. It is set in a futuristic Europe._

_“We have already started ocular visits in the country to keep the film as close to the book as possible,” Garcia stated in an interview with Un Nuevo Dia._

_The film will be featuring cities like Madrid, Yekaterinburg, and London._

_Want more? Follow our social media accounts for more updates!_

* * *

For the first time in years, Raquel felt like a teenager. Like she was living on an existential plane as this certain Kate Sherry singer sings about. Katya Terry? Cathy? _Whatever_. She’s gonna need a new Kate Spade handbag for this (maybe charge it to Sergio’s credit card along the way).

And no, it’s not because of the man driving beside her who could make her heart create a 12/8 time signature with a lopsided grin of his. Alright, maybe it was his fault. They were on their way to his mother’s home, after all.

The man behind the wheels sensed his fiancée's anxiousness from her seat. She was squirming, finding a position she was comfortable with, and was tapping her fingers on her knee. His hand found hers, the warmth of his palm offering her an ounce of calmness. She met his eyes with a grateful smile. Raquel couldn't even fathom why she felt distressed. This was Teresa they were talking about.

Teresa raised Raquel like she was her own, similar to the way Raquel's mother was fond of Sergio. She would cook her son's best friend her homemade cookies and would leave a portion saved only just for Raquel. Neither Andres nor Sergio was allowed near the stash. The Marquina family would frequently invite her to family dinners and vacations, using her as leverage to get through their shy and timid child (and Teresa wouldn’t admit it, but she’s always wanted a daughter of her own).

That reminder allowed the woman in the passenger seat to breathe better. Still, Raquel has never had good memories with her boyfriends' mothers—it must be a maternal instinct to hate on the woman their sons sleep with.

Not that they had done that.

_Nope. Not thinking about that._

They almost did it, though.

_Okay. She really has to stop thinking about THAT._

Frédéric Chopin was already halfway his etude when Sergio pulled the car to a halt in front of an old two-story house. The paint on its exterior walls are chipping, but it was obvious that the structure withstood storms and seasons. The front yard stood out against similarly built houses along the block—it was adorned with shrubs which bore yellow flowers. Petals lie against the grass, making the stark house look alive and well-lived in.

Raquel eyed her old home; an exact replica of the townhouse before her. It stood lifeless, however. She could only pray that the new homeowners treated her childhood home well.

Sergio pressed the car horn twice before turning the ignition off. A woman in her late sixties appeared from the doorway, beaming at her two visitors. Her grey hair shone under the hazy afternoon sun, and the wind danced with the hem of her blush pink frock. Doubt gradually dissipated from Raquel’s mind. It was good to see her again.

“Welcome home!” Teresa greeted; her arms wide open.

Sergio moved forward to envelop his mother in an embrace, but she detoured and gave Raquel an affectionate hug. The actress reached for her fiancee’s hand and squeezed it.

“How are you, _mi hija_?” Sergio’s mother finally released her, “it’s been a while, 'no?”

“It has.” A few months, maybe? Or a year? Raquel rarely had time off, and when she did, the actress used it to do anything but rest. Counter-productiveness never suited her. “Thank you for having me. How are you?”

“I'm doing fine. Embroidery on weekdays, baking, and church on the weekends. Family lunch would be a thing if only Sergio visited every week.” The old woman glared at Sergio, who was standing awkwardly behind Raquel.

He shrugged, “I'm sorry, mama. My hands are full.”

Teresa’s eyes narrowed and gave a suggestive look toward Raquel. Okay, maybe his mother doesn’t hate the fact that she’s “with” her son. “I can see that. Come on in, I cooked Sergio's favorite.” The house owner let her two visitors in.

The house was exactly how she remembered—the couch pressed against the wall, surrounding the fireplace which proved to be useful for displaying various family pictures. A sweet, yet savory smell permeated through the air, driving her back to their younger years when Teresa used her culinary skills to bribe her children into doing something for her.

The only difference in the interior is the excessive embroidered and cross-stitched tapestry hanging from the walls. A large canvas was laid across the couch, bearing an unfinished design of the ocean. Needles and threads of varying colors rested on the coffee table, waiting to be picked up once again by its artist.

Raquel eyed the canvas curiously. “Is this what you're working on?” She had to refrain herself from touching it.

“Gigantic, isn't it? Let's hope the Good Lord grants me time to finish this.”

Sergio stalled his mother. “Mama...”

Teresa, however, was not having it. “Oh, hush, Sergio. There's no use for the drama.” And then she turned to Raquel, lowering the volume of her voice, soft enough for the pair before her to hear it. “I do hope I still get to hold a granddaughter.”

Raquel stiffened beside Sergio, who used the opportunity to steer his mother away from them and toward the kitchen. Teresa refused to budge.

The actress found regained her thoughts and cleared her throat, “I—“

“No pressure.” Sergio’s mother reassured her supposed future daughter-in-law. “I just like making my wishes known. I don’t have much time in the world left.” The statement was enough to her son, but her voice wasn’t filled with self-pity nor remorse.

Raquel clapped her hands together in response to the awkward atmosphere Teresa had created. God, she's even worse than journalists. "Do you need help with setting up the table?"

"Please, please do." The older woman smiled gratefully.

Raquel gave her fiancé a small smile, which Sergio noticeably avoided. His hands were deep in his pocket and his right foot tapped the cherry wood floor with a syncopated beat. With nothing else to do, he followed the two women to their destination.

Teresa once again proved that a mother's instinct is always on point—without looking back, she stalled Sergio with her words. "You're not allowed in the kitchen, Sergio." Raquel eyed him apologetically, her hands covering her mouth to suppress a laugh.

The older woman pointed the cupboard which held the delicate china plates Teresa only used when visitors are around. "How is Marivi?"

One by one, Raquel took each plate and stacked it on top of one another. "She's living with Laura now. Her Alzheimer's are getting worse every day." She said thoughtfully.

"I'm sorry to hear that, _cariño_ ," Teresa placed her hand on Raquel's forearm. "Do you think I could call her sometime? The neighbors are as boring as their front yard."

As Sergio and Raquel’s friendship grew over the years, her mother and Teresa’s did as well. You can’t let your eldest daughter frequently stay the night at a boy’s house and not know his mother. The parents tried to separate their children as they journeyed through adolescence, but they proved to be resistant. Eventually, they gave up and decided that being acquaintances was the best way to address their situation. Raquel was soon accepted in the Marquina household and Sergio in hers.

Raquel let out a soft laugh. "Of course. I'll leave you the number later."

Teresa offered Raquel a spoonful of the clam chowder that was simmering on the stove. The latter's eyes widened as the first drop of the dish met her tongue. "Mmm, this is really good."

The cook beamed with pride and whispered to her son's fiancee. "It’s a family secret I’ll be willing to let you in. It’s Sergio’s favorite. You know what they say—" She trailed off.

"A way to a man’s heart is through his stomach." The two women said at the same time. If Raquel had any doubts if his mother would accept her, now, there was only confidence.

Unfortunately, she would have to throw this all away soon.

_Shit._

_She really didn't think this through._

"Not that you need it," Teresa commented. "That is a very nice ring."

The engaged woman glanced at her ring. The stones glistened against the kitchen light. "He really did well with this one." It was undoubtedly immaculate, but it pained her to look at it. Raquel distracted herself by meticulously placing each plate next to one another on the table.

"How did Sergio woo you anyway? I didn't know my son had a romantic bone somewhere." Sergio grabbed the remaining dinnerware from Raquel's hands and started helping her.

"I think your son would be a much better storyteller than me." The actress pasted on a grin and eyed the man before her. She might be a little shaken, but she was an actress, nonetheless.

Sergio narrowed his eyes at her then turned to his mother. "We spent a lot of time together after her..."

"...divorce." Raquel continued for him.

"She stayed in my flat, she could have moved in with me during that period." That, in a very wholesome way, was true.

Her doctors and lawyer advised her to stay with someone after the divorce. She couldn't stay with her mother and sister, thinking that she'd be more of a burden than assistance to her sister who already had her hands full. She couldn't ask any of her friends who had to focus on their own families and respective careers.

Don't get her wrong, the first person she thought of was Sergio, but even if she trusted him with her entire life, she couldn't possibly ask him to let her crash his bed for a few weeks. Sergio insisted. He stood by Raquel in her rock bottom. He didn’t push her to get back on her feet—he let her do that on her own. To be honest, that was what she was most grateful to him for.

“One thing led to the other. The next thing I knew he’s asking me to be his “girlfriend”.” Raquel narrated their “lie”, her fingers quoting her final word.

“I do remember it was you asking me.” Sergio teased. _Ah. It is on._

Raquel reciprocated his tone. “It was you. We were out for grocery and you asked me in the middle of the condiment aisle.”

“You forced me to ask you,” Sergio countered. “You were looking for saffron when you steered the conversation to me asking you.”

“No,” Raquel argued. “I told you, “Sergio, don’t you think we’re acting more than friends?” And you jumped in at the opportunity to ask me.” The younger woman turned to her fiancé’s mother. “He’s the most unromantic person I have met.”

Teresa wasted no time to side with Raquel. “It sounds adorable, but you could have asked her out for dinner before you popped the question.”

Already losing to the women in the room, he let out a sigh. “Mama, I wasn’t asking for her hand in marriage.”

Raquel turned to the man beside her and tapped his chest in mockery. “Next time you ask me anything, make sure you have a candlelight dinner waiting for me at home. Capisce?”

She saw him gulp. “Yes, ma’am.”

* * *

Lunch wasn’t a glorious affair. It was mostly Raquel and Teresa rallying in a conversation. Sergio was contented to listen to the women he admires the most talking to each other. He would have butted in, but he found comfort in simple nods and one-word responses. Nostalgia washed in. He wasn’t very fond of his childhood memories, but he felt at home. More so with Raquel seated beside him.

The same rules applied from when they were younger. If you didn’t cook, you clean. That’s how the two visitors found themselves in front of the sink, washing the dishes. The task was being done in an orderly manner, until Sergio decided to splash Raquel, leaving her blouse soaked with water. With soap on her hands and a mischievous smile pasted on her face, the latter made her revenge.

Then all hell broke loose. It was a mess—like it was the doing of two children, rather than two grown adults. Water was splattered on the floor, soap bubbles filled the kitchen surface, and at least three more dinnerware lay unclean on the sink. Teresa walked in on them in a state of chaos and reprimanded the pair. The couple finished the chore with Raquel doing all the work with Sergio behind her; her back pressed against his chest, and his arms wrapped around her waist.

“Do you have a spare shirt?” Raquel glared at Sergio who looked at her innocently.

She only hardened her gaze. “Come on,” he chuckled, pulling her to his old bedroom. Raquel knew his house like it was mapped out on her palms, not because it had the same architectural design as her old home, but because she frequented the place like it was hers.

Sergio pulled out an old high school shirt and chucked it toward Raquel. The latter started unbuttoning her blouse, relieved to finally get out of the soaked clothing. She didn’t even notice Sergio staring at her until he cleared his throat and turned around.

Raquel laughed at his shy demeanor and walked toward him; the wet shirt crumpled in her hands. He felt her presence near him. “Are you fully clothed?”

She laughed, “no.”

“Please—” His train of thought was interrupted as Raquel appeared in front of him, in a black bra and a pair of dark skinny jeans. The black platform heels she wore did nothing to keep him calm.

Raquel smirked as his breath hitched. Instinctively, his warm hands found the curve of her waist, his fingertips softly grazing on her skin. She leaned in, her eyes darkening as she met his gaze—his gaze that didn’t know just exactly where to focus. On her eyes. On her lips. On her chest.

Confidence washed over Raquel. Without a second thought, her lips found his. His hands are lost in her hair, balling a fistful of her brown tresses as he pulled her closer, deepening the kiss. Her back hit the wall, her left hand pinned overhead by his. Her left leg entangled with his, trailing the thin material of her pumps against his calf.

He held her on a high pedestal, the rough material of the wooden wall scraping against her back. Her legs wrapped around his waist; her lips dangerously close to his ear as she let a soft moan escape her lips.

“Is this how we’re—” Raquel whispered, moving her hair to one shoulder, and craning her neck to give Sergio access to her sweet skin.

“Letting it be?” Sergio asked, his breath hot against her skin. “Yeah.”

Letting it be--that’s their conclusion to whatever they have. Neither was willing to name it—afraid that doing so would result in a bad omen. That’s the thing about getting involved with a friend. You have too much at risk. And frankly? Neither was willing to endanger years and years of friendship for a few months of romantic high.

So that’s how they referred to it. Letting it be. If they cross the bridge, they’ll face it.

But for now? They’re fine with that.

His lips barely grazed her skin when an unflattering sound came from outside his bedroom, followed by a resounding “Sergio!” from his mother. The pair, suddenly brought out from their trance, laughed at their current situation.

Her forehead rested on the crook of his neck, taking his scent in. “Go.” She whispered. He gave her an apologetic smile and kissed her one last time before tending to his mother. He smoothed his shirt and re-folded the sleeves to his elbow. God, was he lucky she didn’t break the buttons of his shirt.

Raquel watched his frame as he left the room, closing the door behind him. Her back once again met the wall as she heaved a heavy sigh. Shaking her head to clear her thoughts, she pulled the old shirt over her head and headed to the bathroom on the floor. A splash of cold water would help her. Maybe.

* * *

_The sociology student turned police-in-training bit her nail in anxiety as the phone rang thrice in a row. If he doesn’t pick up in the next three rings, she swears to God, she would board the next flight to Connecticut and ask for his state and wellbeing herself._

_It’s been two months since Sergio left Madrid for his graduate program at Yale, and two weeks since her training started in Avila. After his call announcing his safe arrival in Connecticut, they weren’t able to follow up on each other. Raquel let him settle for the first few days, reminding herself to call in three weeks. But the call never came. She was too preoccupied with the move to Avila, she forgot to call him back._

_So, please. Give her a break for feeling anxious that her best friend wasn’t answering her call. The phone rang two more times before someone picked up._

_“Hello?” The familiar voice greeted._

_“Sergio?” She asked, a little too breathlessly._

_“Raquel?”_

_A smile made its way on her face. “Yeah, it’s me. How are you?”_

_“I’m doing good. Didn’t you already start training?”_

_“We did. It’s not that heavy yet.” She looked at the sea of people in uniform behind her. “I’m actually on a break and they allowed me to use the phone.”_

_When lunch was announced, Raquel went to an officer and pretended she needed to call her sick sister in the hospital. God bless you, Laura. She was given permission to use the phone near the cafeteria. The officer-in-training wasted no time and tapped the foreign number on the pad. She already has his contact details engraved in her memory._

_“It’s good to hear your voice.”_

_“How are you? How is Yale? Have you settled just fine?” She rambled on, excited to hear his stories. Raquel was certain that he was having a far better time than her._

_“I wish I could take you with me. You’d love it here. We have lots of trees.” Raquel laughed at his statement._

_“Hmm,” she feigned though. “We also have lots of trees here.”_

_He teased her, “but you don’t have me.”_

_Raquel decided to entertain him. “Ah. Good point.”_

_“I think you would be very proud to know that I found myself a study group.”_

_She raised her eyebrow in amusement. “Oh. Is that another word for a friendship clique?”_

_His chuckle sent a wave of nostalgia over her. “I think you’ve mistaken. You overestimate me.”_

_“Sergio,” she reprimanded. “You’re allowed to have other friends than me.”_

_“Weird. I thought I wasn’t allowed. Joking.” Raquel huffed at his answer. If she could send a videotape of her rolling her eyes, she would. In a way, she found this Sergio refreshing. He teased her more in three minutes than he did in the previous months. Maybe this study group of his did him good._

_“Don’t tell my mother this yet, but a medical group has already offered to fund my research here.” He narrated, his tone brimming with pride._

_“That’s wonderful! I’m happy for you!”_

_A faint knock echoed in his apartment. The sound of the phone being placed on a table met her ears. She heard him speak to a woman in a language she could barely understand. His footsteps neared the receiver, and she braced herself._

_He switched back to his mother tongue, his tone apologetic. “Hey, I’m sorry. I really have to go, but I’ll call you soon, okay?”_

_She conceded. “Of course. I miss you.”_

_“I miss you too.”_

_“Sergio!” She called before he hung up the phone. “Wait—are you… are you happy?”_

_“I’m not sure what that genuinely feels like, but I think I could be.”_

God, was she jealous of that.

_Her two weeks in training have been hell. Not because of the actual program—she actually believed she will be helping people in the future, no. But something was lacking. And having Sergio, the only constant thing in her life, about a thousand miles away from her made her miserable._

_She always thought that if the unfortunate case of separation happened between her and Sergio, he’d be the one to succumb to loneliness. But why was it her now that felt incomplete without him?_

_She refused to think about his farewell. She has to pull herself together._

And she does; it was only a matter of time, anyway.

* * *

Unsure of how she would interact with Sergio in front of his mother, Raquel re-emerged from the second floor of his childhood home, delicately descending from the stairs. She met his eyes as she moved past the last step. There was something about the wrinkled shirt (which Sergio ironed to a crisp before they left his house, by the way), his disheveled hair, and his flustered look that made Raquel smirk provocatively.

Nothing raised her self-esteem more than knowing that she had a rather dangerous effect on Sergio.

Teresa bade her farewell to Sergio and Raquel, insisting that she had to take her siesta. The pair took it as a sign to leave the house, neither wanted to be reminded of their little endeavor in his old bedroom earlier.

When they reached the front porch, the younger woman gave Sergio’s mother a hug. “Thank you for having me here. The food was very delicious.”

“Stop the flattery, Raquel,” the older woman waved in dismissal. “I’m glad it’s you. He looks absolutely smitten.”

Sergio replied, “I am.” The actress glanced at the man beside her. Of course, he looks smitten. She just scraped his lips raw with her kisses earlier. Raquel hoped she looked presentable, she didn’t need his mother piercing together their physical appearances and concluding what they did in his bedroom.

“Oh, who am I kidding? You’ve been smitten with her since college.” Teresa mused. The hand that was firmly rested on Raquel’s back is suddenly found deep in his pocket. Once again, Raquel turned back and looked at Sergio with amusement. Her eyebrows cocked and a little smirk played on her mouth.

Sergio cleared his throat. “Alright, Mama. That’s enough embarrassment for me now. We’ll see you in a few weeks?”

His mother nodded, oblivious to the embarrassing state she just put her son in. “Tell your brother to pay his old mama a visit. Remember what I told you.” Sergio gave his mother a long hug before bidding his farewell.

To say that the ride back home was silent was an understatement. There was tension present between them. Sinatra serenaded them both with the lyrics to “Witchcraft”. The heat is indeed too intense for them. With a soft grunt, Sergio forcefully pressed the next button on the car radio. It seems that Sergio can’t keep his mind off of them, rendering him unfocused.

She couldn’t stop thinking about something either.

“So... college?” Raquel broke silence. If his mother was telling the truth, she needed to know when, exactly. The knowledge was not imperative, but it piqued her amusement and interest that Sergio would like someone like her in college. In her mind, his type has always been timid women, who you’d never expect to bite like a scorpion when placed in challenging situations. 

Sergio glanced at her for a second before returning his gaze on the road. “Don’t say another word.”

“What?” She held her hands up and turned to face him. “I didn’t say anything yet!”

“We both know what’s on your mind.”

Raquel decided to engage him, “Oh, so you’re a psychic now? What card am I holding in my hand?”

He laughed breathily. “What?”

“I’m just screwing with you.” Raquel settled back on her seat.

“You’re doing a really good job at that.”

Raquel rolled her eyes at his irritation. “Why are you in such a bad mood, anyway?”

“I’m not.” He defended.

She shrugged, “sure.”

“Do I drop you off at your apartment?”

“Sure.” Then he made a right turn to the road en route to her complex.

Four. That’s how many turns Sergio still had to make before they reach her area of residency. Her rather exclusive apartment building was located near the east side of the city center. A good hour and a half from their old neighborhood. As the familiar buildings and streetlights passed Raquel’s sight, she felt the unwillingness to leave his car become stronger.

Her stomach slightly dropped when he pulled the car to a stop.

“Sergio?” She called. He looked at her with a look that used to be foreign but is now being acquainted with her. “I don’t really want to go home yet.”

He nodded and revved the engine to life. His right hand left the steering wheel and rested it on her thighs. The sturdy material of her jeans felt like sheer fabric against his palm. Something pooled within her. He must have noticed her breath hitch because Raquel could swear that he never drove faster than he did now.

If tension could slice, she would be sporting a deep cut from a sharp incision blade. Raquel could only hear a few things: the low hum of the engine as they drove to his place, her arrhythmic heartbeat, and her shallow breaths. Her thumb wedged in between her teeth. Anxiousness washed over Raquel.

Something’s brewing between them. And she might not be responsible for what she might do.

The pair barely reached the door before their mouths fused together. A small sound escaped her mouth, breathing in once before surrendering herself to him. Her back was pressed against the door as her hands encircled his neck, pulling him closer. Sergio, preoccupied with the goddess before him, fumbled for the door, almost missing the doorknob twice.

She heard the familiar click of the door and pulled them together inside hastily, never abandoning his kiss. His palms traveled to her shoulder and pushed her against the door, closing it behind them. Her palms cupped his face, her fingertips softly grazing on his perfectly trimmed beard.

He bit her lip, begging for entrance which she willingly gave. Her lips coaxed his, their tongues meeting halfway. Reluctant at first, before leaving them in euphoria. He groaned against her mouth, the low baritone of his voice rendering her untamed. Raquel kicked her Louboutins away, making Sergio lean down to adjust to her frame. She pulled his collar toward her as she slowly backed to the couch.

He broke them apart, their breaths shallow and unforgiving. “Not here.”

Sergio pulled her up, her limbs instinctively wrapping around his waist, her lips dangerously close to his neck. Her mouth touched the crook of his neck, then he loses it.

He hurriedly brought them to his bedroom, softly placing Raquel on his bed. He didn’t bother turning the lights on, content with the faint glow of the streetlights from his window. She changed her position, kneeing the material of his comforter to meet him. Her eyes darkened as she pulled him closer by his favorite tie. That would have to go. She threw the black paraphernalia on the floor before unbuttoning the unrelenting buttons of his shirt.

Sergio pulled back, his dark eyes meeting hers. “Are you sure?”

“Shut up.” She whispered against his lips, right before diving in his plane.

He pushed her back on the bed as she continued the task of stripping his shirt off. Feeling impatient, he pulled his old shirt from her torso, his breath stopping as he sees her again in the thin fabric of her black brassiere. His fingers traced the outline of her body, her back arching in permission.

His calloused hands traveled on her back, carefully avoiding the hook of her underwear. Eventually, he decided against his judgment, and unhooked the material, exposing her chest. Warmth spread through her skin. His fingertips trailed her skin like a map, each freckle a red dot. North, then to the east, then to the west, and then south.

And then, he traipses down. Slowly. Slowly. _Slowly._ Until he reaches her center. “Sergio… Fuck!” She whimpered against him as she clutched on him. Release slowly came to her, driving him feral with the sound of her raspy voice crying his name out.

Her hands fumbled on his belt, grunting as the leather material failed to cooperate. Her laughter mixed with his as he helped her get rid of their pants. He trailed his tongue down to her navel, then biting the thin fabric of her underwear, slowly removing it from its usual place. Raquel held her breath until the damned black material pooled at her feet.

When he came back to her eye-level, she turned them around, trapping him between her thighs. Sergio paused, “do you have--?”

“I’m on the pill.”

Without hesitation, she slid against him, stalling her movements to settle on him. His hips against hers. His hands are everywhere: her waist, her back, before it settled on her breasts. They moved together. A waltz on his crumpled sheets. A dance that felt completely foreign, and yet something that required no thought. It is instinctive. Something that is imperative and inherent between them.

Her breath and pace quickened, and it tore him apart. Seeing and hearing her close threw him off the edge. Within a matter of seconds, they arrived together. He shuddered as Raquel collapsed on his chest; her melodic laughter weaved with her moans ringing in his ears. Raquel may just have found her new kingdom. She would rule him and his bedroom, with her on top of him. He’d be on his knees with just a single command.

“So…” Raquel propped herself on top of him, her legs intertwining with his.

His fingers toyed with the stray strands of her that fell on his chest. “We’re really terrible at this.” Her subconscious debated with her. They promised to let what will happen, happen. Somehow, she wants to take it as slow as possible, not wanting to jeopardize things before anything even starts. But they’ve already had years, and years, and years of yearning. Of running and hiding from each other. The least she can give them is this.

“We are.” She nodded in agreement, her teeth sinking on her bottom lip, suppressing laughter. “Did you really like me back in college?” Raquel asked, the question once again burning a hole in her mind.

“I’m not dignifying that with a response.” His smile reaches his eyes. Raquel decides that this was her favorite look on him. Sergio, shrouded by intimacy and smiling only for her.

Her eyebrows cocked in disbelief. “I think I already have my answer.” She was certain of it. The answer to her initial question only bore more queries—but that was a topic saved for another day. He brought her head down toward him, pulling her to another kiss. This time, it wasn’t brimming with anticipation. Rather, it’s filled with years of unspoken words. He smiles against her lips.

They spent the night entangled in each other’s arms. Raquel was soon enveloped in slumber, halting her mission to trace the ‘M’ figure in his palm as many times possible. Sergio tried to sleep, but his thoughts were rather preoccupied with the woman in his embrace. His eyes traced the outline of her face, memorizing each feature, each mark.

Raquel fluttered her eyes open, surprised to see Sergio still awake. “Stop staring,” she said, still half-asleep.

“Hm?” He hummed in response.

“It’s creepy.”

Sergio pulled her closer to his chest. “Go to sleep.” Raquel’s only response was to snuggle closer to him, her arm laid across his upper body.

Sergio spent years having difficulties to surrender to sleep. His thoughts are always at war, raging with new ideas that kept him awake. And when he closes his eyes, he only sees the remnants of war that was his childhood. So, he decided that rest was not as crucial as it was supposed to be. But now, he willingly conceded to slumber knowing that when he wakes up, Raquel will be waiting for him.

_That night, he only dreams of her._


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! Sorry for the late update! I do hope this disgustingly sweet chapter makes up for it. Let me know what you think! 
> 
> Also, thank you so, so much for all your kudos, comments, and support!

**_Monday, June 17, 2019_ **

For a dreadful Monday morning, Raquel was blissfully euphoric.

The sun was only starting to rise, blanketing an orange hue in her surroundings. An eye-catching flare seeped through the curtains, reminding her of summer—a vision Raquel had always associated with home. This is exactly where she is now, however in denial she still might be.

The woman in question danced around the kitchen like she was in a dance club. The silky mezzo of her voice singing Tina Turner's greatest hits filled the area as she skirted from counter to counter, preparing their breakfast.

_Yep. "Their."_

In the half-hour that she's been awake, she found that despite her detestation in cooking for herself, or anybody else, for that matter, Raquel actually enjoyed this: the uncertainty and domesticity of unforgiven intimacy.

And with uncertainty, comes change. Nothing's changed yet, though. Except for the tiny fact that for the first time in years, Raquel woke up before Sergio did. The former wanted to stir him from slumber but decided against it, content with the peaceful look on his face. A period of serenity that has long since graced him in sleep.

So, she resorted to keeping guard as he rested; her fingertips barely touched his face as she traced each mark on his face like it was a constellation that would rival Cassiopeia's beauty. His warmth enveloped her in such a way she didn't even notice that the blanket that kept their bodies covered was already lying on the floor.

A strong arm was draped against her back where his palm was firmly placed on her waist, keeping her secure on top of him. That's how they spent the past few hours. Chest to chest. Skin to skin. Neither hid from one another as they lay bare against the night.

The faint beeping of the coffee machine drove her out of her fancy. She grabbed two identical mugs and filled it with the bitter liquid. Raquel almost spilled the beverage on her when she found Sergio leaning against the archway, eagerly observing her actions.

His arms were folded together; a gesture he makes when he's deep in scrutiny. It's one of his "professor" stances. The only difference is that his face lit up when he met her eyes, instead of his usual knitted eyebrow look.

A smug grin made its way on his face as he eyed the familiar material of his shirt contrasting her golden skin. His amusement (and arousal, it seems) heightened when the black lace caught his eye.

Raquel placed the mugs on the kitchen counter. "Do you want your shirt back?"

"No, no," he mused. "It looks better on you." He strode toward her, his sweatpants hanging low on his waist. Raquel froze at the sight. "Although, it would be best if…" Sergio trailed off, his fingers toying with the wrinkled fabric.

"Tsk. Tsk. Tsk." Raquel leaned backward and placed a finger on his lip. "No." And then she did the unthinkable. She giggled.

He grabbed a mug and cradled it in his palms. He grimaced as the bitter taste of the coffee hit his tongue. "Are you always this chirpy on Monday mornings?"

She teased him back, "are you always sleeping in on Monday mornings?"

He shrugged, "best sleep in decades."

"Ah." She leaned her back on the counter, the shirt riding higher on her thighs. "I wonder who you owe that to?"

Sergio hovered Raquel. A little tiptoe from her and their lips would meet once again. It took all her will to keep her feet grounded. "I can't seem to recall. Would you like to help me?"

His left hand moved part her, reaching for a canister on the counter. His fingers lightly brushed against the bare skin of her thigh. "Although imagine my surprise when the first thing I want to see in the morning is not on my bed."

Raquel fixed her gaze on the sink on her left. It was the least interesting object in her line of sight, but the need for point zero heightened. _Anything to keep her distracted from him_. Bodies almost touching, she held her breath. "That must be tragic."

He hummed a tone of agreement. The low baritone of his voice sent Raquel into damnation. "It is."

When he retreated, her senses returned. "Do you have work today?" She asked, playing it safe. He feigned thought, sipping gracefully from his cup. "You don't." A provocative smile was present on her lips.

"And who are you to decide my fate?" An arm snaked on her waist then pulled her closer to him. The smile on his face reached his eyes—a sight Raquel never failed to appreciate.

She folded her arms and held her head high. "And who are you to defy my orders?"

"I am but a commoner who's been lucky enough to set sight on such royalty."

"Keep that smooth talk and I'll…" she trailed off, directing a smirk toward the man before her.

He finally let go of the cup he was holding and placed his palm on her lower back. "You'll what?" His lips are dangerously close to hers; barely touching as he whispered his question.

She didn't waste any time and placed her mouth on his, coaxing it open. The taste of coffee and mint present in his tongue. Their breaths and subtle moans mixed, a harmonious sound flitting out in the open. Her arms wrapped around his neck, supporting her weight as he lifted and placed her on the counter.

A grunt was heard from Sergio as he unbuttoned her shirt; a task he finds difficult as the unrelenting white buttons refused to cooperate.

Halfway through his endeavor, Raquel stiffened. Smoke eased from the pan as the pungent and strong smell of pancakes burning filled the kitchen. She hurriedly disentangled herself from Sergio and turned the stove off.

"Great." Raquel softly hit his chest. "Now it's burnt."

He made a sound of acknowledgment as he gathered her hair on one side and started to plant kisses on her neck. Her eyes fluttered shut as she angled her head to give him better access. A flustered sound escaped her lips as she marveled at the sensation.

His fingers slowly brushed against the skin on her shoulder, pulling the shirt lower until the collar was on her forearm. He trailed wet kisses down on her shoulder blades. Warmth radiated on her skin as his palms traveled from her waist to her stomach, then dangerously to her chest.

He paused, "this is better than any breakfast anyway."

"If I let you get your way, we won't be able to make it to lunch." She turns to face him to place a firm kiss on his lips before returning to her kitchen duties. Raquel didn't even bother fixing her disheveled appearance. Sergio might want to witness his artwork.

"You," Raquel pointed at a stool with a spatula, "sit over there."

"Yes, ma'am." He obliged.

"Speaking of which, you need to buy groceries." She said, changing the topic so she wouldn't have to endure the tension they built in the wee hours of the morning.

"I eat outside," he replied matter-of-factly.

She turned to face him, "which is unlikely for a professor like you to consume unhealthy stuff."

He mocked her, "like you being an actress with an unhealthy obsession with cheeseburgers?"

"Do. Not. Speak. Of. That. Again." Raquel put an arm on her waist and feigned annoyance. "My personal trainer might hear about this."

"She's not even here."

"I'm in denial about the cheeseburgers, okay? Don't speak it into existence."

"Fine." He sipped on the abandoned coffee and smiled at her. "I won't bring up the topic of your non-existent food baby."

"Good. Eat up. We're going outside." He looked up in confusion. "You need groceries, I need clothes to change in to." Raquel clarified.

"Planning to move in already?" He asked nonchalantly. And if one could choke on coffee, she already would have.

She gulped before dismissing his earlier retort. "What did you say?"

"Nothing," he firmly replied.

Raquel smirked through her coffee mug. "I thought I heard something."

In regard to the hypothetical situation of them moving in together, it would be fairly easy. Not that Raquel nor Sergio is already thinking about it—but looking at their relationship in retrospect, they've always been inseparable. Save for the few years in Yale, Avila, and Barcelona, that is.

And if Raquel were to visualize the hypothetical circumstances of them living together, she could already see them making it work. Sergio had a thing for routines, and Raquel had a set of house rules the other wouldn't mind following.

Except for maybe one thing. Showers.

Raquel carefully tiptoed on the slippery tiles of his apartment's shower, stretching her arms outward to reach for the stack of clean towels in the overhead cabinet. She tried stepping on different objects to elevate her, but to no avail. Sighing in defeat, she was about to call for Sergio when his figure appeared in the doorway.

"No."

Her eyes narrowed. "No, what?"

"I need the shower." He gestured to the folded towel he was holding.

Raquel refused to move from the toilet seat, which she was currently standing on. "I came in here first."

"Yes, but I shower at this time." He even looked at his wristwatch to emphasize his point.

She almost let out a laugh but remembered that it was Sergio they were talking about. He had a plan for everything. "You still follow a routine?"

"Yes. My house, my rules."

Raquel held her chin up like she ruled every nation in the world. "And?"

He conceded, knowing that this was a losing game. "I'm giving you five minutes—"

The sound of the door being slammed shut echoed in the bathroom. "Come on," Raquel raspingly said. She hooked her finger on his pants' waistband and pulled him closer. A menacing smile present on her face.

"Smart." He unbuttoned the rest of her shirt and discarded it somewhere. Sergio stalled for a moment, marveling at her almost perfect physique.

Her gaze fixed on his as she shuffled backward. "Haven't thought of that, Professor?"

"It seems that you always cloud my mind, Inspectora." Her back hit the wall just in time for the cold water to rain over them. The temperature was treacherously low, but neither minded. His palms traveled around her body—on her waist, her thighs, her neck. Raquel, however, was not in the mood for foreplay.

She placed her lips on him, already begging for entrance. Then, she pulled back. "Can you think of anything else…" Her mouth barely left his as she whispered. "…when I do this?" She pulled him back and deepened the kiss, sighing loudly as she melted into his arms.

When she regained strength, Raquel pulled back once again. "Or this?" She trailed wet kisses on his shoulder then to his chest.

And downward.

Downward.

_Downward._

"Or this?" He lets out a groan which drove her feral as she lowered to her knees.

And then she worshipped. Prayed to the gods, she did.

She begged.

And begged.

And begged.

Praised like his hips are the very altar that will lead her to redemption.

His breaths became ragged as arrival neared him. Raquel stood up, a victorious smile on her face as she saw Sergio's disheveled look.

"Stop acting smug," he breathlessly said as he pinned her to the wall, arms overhead. His mouth tackled her neck, a sharp intake of breath was heard from her as his lips met her skin. He paused, his forehead resting on her temples as he whispered with a low voice. "What do you want?"

There's only one answer. "You," she replied. "Now."

And that's exactly what he gave her.

He brought her up against the wall, allowing her to wrap her legs around his waist. He slowly filled her in, his palms gripping on her hips to support her. She paused for a moment, before tearing his composure apart with their movements—a dance they're only starting to learn. Her small, arrhythmic moans enjoined with his low tonal groans were the music they moved to.

Then, his hand traveled to her chest, softly massaging her breast, which made her gasp in delight. Her back arched as she reveled in pleasure—in the sight of them, clouding each other's minds with ragged breaths, filling the void in each other's empty abysses.

In his eyes, there was nothing more beautiful than the vision of Raquel over him, slowly falling apart in their vulnerabilities; her hair cascading upon them, her face signifying her imminent arrival.

Her teeth sank on his shoulder blades as they finished. She could barely say a word; all that escaped from her swollen lips are the faint sound of her moans and her catching her breath. He allowed her a few moments before he captured her lips once again.

His palms remained on her hips; his thumb brushing over the supple skin. "What's this?" He stalled when his finger ran over a thin, but long scar a few inches shy of her bikini line.

_Fuck._

"It's nothing," she dismissed. Raquel grabbed the bottle of shampoo and started cleaning her hair to deviate her thoughts. "I fell on one of the set props."

Her only prayer was that he doesn't pull his 'professor' mode on her and lecture her that a scar like that is not usually acquired from a fall. He softly turned her to him, looking into her eyes to see if she was holding anything back. She stiffened and hope he sees nothing.

She knows he doesn't believe her façade, but he doesn't push her anyway. "Next time, be careful."

The actress let out the breath she doesn't even know she was holding. "I will."

His hands traveled to her hair, his fingers softly pressing on her head. She smiled at him in gratitude as she leaned toward him. And that's how they stayed. Talking, and touching. There was no tension. No anticipation.

Just two lovers basking in intimacy and the truth that comes with it.

Raquel finished her endeavors quickly, shuffling outside the shower area, but not before placing a soft kiss on Sergio's cheek. The latter felt flushed at her gesture, only to be dumfounded when Raquel flashed him a smirk and grabbed the neatly folded towel he brought with him earlier.

She dried herself in front of him and wrapped herself with the fleecy material.

"Have fun." Raquel had the audacity to wink at him before leaving him stunned.

And alone.

* * *

Raquel checked herself in the passenger seat's sunshade mirror through the dark lens of her sunglasses. Not what she'd normally wear for outside purposes, but this one would do. Her palms attempted to iron out the wrinkles in her button-up shirt (it's actually Sergio's, but who cares, anyway?) caused by the pants she tucked it in to make it fit her, but to no avail. Eventually, she gave up. The actress just hopes no one would see her in this walk-of-shame worthy outfit.

Two Franklin songs and one sonatina later, Sergio turned left to the parking lot of an enormous supermarket near his residential area. The actress was lucky to have been allowed to keep her glasses on in the establishment. "Sore eyes," she lied. Otherwise, she might have been recognized the minute she stepped in the supermarket.

"When do you start work?" He asked. Sergio pulled up a cart and steered it to the nearest aisle.

"In a few weeks. But we'll meet with the cast members in a few days." She explained. Looking around the supermarket and feeling it was clear, she pushed the sunglasses up on her head. "Why do you ask?"

"Nothing." He put a few boxes of cereal in the cart. One of them was her favorite. "Just thinking how much longer I can keep you."

She turned to smirk at him, but it looked more of a flustered smile than a smug grin. "Now, you're just being sentimental."

"Maybe." He shrugged like it was nothing.

"Whatever helps you sleep at night." She replied and pulled the cart behind her, deliberately swaying her hips to tease Sergio.

He refused to budge, however. Then, he said in a low voice, "I was thinking that maybe we can just stay in for the next few days."

"I'd like that. Where are going to get rations, though?"

"I'll cook," he promised.

Her eyebrows shot up. "Ah. A domesticated man," she commented. "Pasta?"

"Ravioli." That earned him the stamp of approval. Raquel knew he rarely cooked, not even for her, save for a few special occasions. Or when he did something wrong.

The actress narrowed her eyes in suspicion. "What did you do?"

"What?" He replied, perplexed.

She pretended to be in her "detective" mode and interrogated him. "What's the special occasion then?"

"Your birthday." He sighed in annoyance. Right. She was too enclosed in their own little space; she forgot her own birthday. "And I just want to spend time with my…"

"Your?" She asked, her tone hopeful.

He strode toward her and pushed the stray strands of hair to the back of her ear. "Fiancée? Friend? Future—"

Raquel knows he's joking, but her smile couldn't be anymore brighter. "Alright. I get where you're going." She wedged her fingers in his and started to walk side-by-side.

The pair continued their little treasure hunt in the supermarket; Sergio stuck to his grocery list and his aisle system, only for Raquel to disrupt his organized shopping routine by pulling him to the candy section. She grabbed three too many packs of her favorite brand of gummies and dropped it in the cart.

He gave her a look of warning. "This is for Carlos." She explained.

"I don't think he's allowed to have gummies at his age."

"I'm going to safe keep those until he's old enough to chew." Raquel justified, then put another pack of a different variant.

"I might have to make a word with your trainer." He threatened her.

She glared at him, pointing a pensive finger at him. "Don't you dare."

"You don't need that much—"

The actress cut him off before he could say anything. "I'm paying for my stuff. Shut it." He did, but not before he let out a hearty laugh at her actions.

Their last stop before checking out was Raquel's long-awaited shopping for clothes. She pulled him toward the small, yet packed clothing section. The actress stopped at the aisle with the sign "women" overhead.

The actress combed through each rack, looking for a decent dress and a few blouses to change into. Raquel headed for the fitting room before returning to the area and put in two more pairs of jeans on the growing mountain of unpaid clothes. None of them were designer, but she'd have to make do.

Sergio stood uncomfortably at the end of the aisle, staring as clothes gradually piled up on her arm. She walked to him and held up two dresses of the same design. One in beige, the other in deep burgundy.

"What do you think?"

"Red." And she swore, with the way he gulped, he could already imagine her in the dress.

Raquel pulled him to the farthest and most secluded fitting room and closed the door behind them. Confusion filled Sergio until Raquel stripped in front of him until she was in the familiar black material. She stepped over the red dress—a figure-hugging ensemble with short sleeves and a keyhole neckline.

She turned around and gathered her hair on one side, asking for help. "Zip me up?"

His thumb lightly grazed on her spine as he zipped her up, placing a kiss on the bare area of her shoulder blade.

He looked at her through the mirror. "Stunning."

And there it was again—the erratic rhythm in her chest she seems to only experience when she's with Sergio. There was something in his eyes neither can yet name, but it was of an emotion of such strength, such force, that when they finally come to terms it, neither will be prepared for the aftermath.

Sergio pulled her to him, his lips greeting hers. His palms softly cradled her cheek, while the other is lost in her brown waves. Unlike their kisses before, this one is not rushed nor hastened. All forms of cognition seemed to dissipate—all that's left was instinct and intuition.

She pulled away first, resting her forehead against his. "What are you doing to me, Sergio?"

He softly gripped her waist to compel her to look at their image. His arms wrapped around her waist as he pulled her closer, his chest on her back, their gaze never leaving their reflection. His chin rested on her shoulder as her temple leaned on his. There were only the two of them. And they were wonderful.

* * *

The drive back to Sergio's apartment was one that didn't require words. The soothing voice of Billie Holiday and her jazz band serenaded the pair as they weaved through the Madrid road. Traffic was heavier on Monday, but neither seemed to care. They felt content singing along to the Holiday. It was a bubble indeed. One that detached them from reality that held sharp objects in its palms.

Sergio parked his car near a shopping district in Central Madrid. "Why'd you stop?"

"Do you mind staying for a few minutes? I need to get my suits from the dry cleaner." Ah. Yes. Sergio and his dry cleaner's relationship were one she did not dare question. He brings his favorite suits to the cleaner at least twice a month.

"Sure, I can wait." She said, already fishing her phone out of her bag to fight boredom. He scurried out of the driver seat and left her in solitary with the car engine running.

Raquel was so engrossed in the dark noir novel she was reading on her phone; she almost didn't hear the knock that came from the driver's side. She was startled to see Sergio back. He opened the door and slid on his seat.

He wasn't holding the usual hanger bags which contained his precious ensemble. Instead, on his lap was a small tri-colored beagle that seemed to look at Raquel with such adoration. Her face immediately softened as she picked the puppy from its previous place and into her arms. The small canine wriggled around, still uncomfortable with its new owner. Tiny, high-pitched barks trumped over the jazz music as it went at war with Raquel's perfectly manicured fingers.

Sergio seemed content staring at Raquel. "Happy Birthday," he finally says. "I know it's not until tomorrow, but…"

Her eyes widened at the realization. "You're spoiling me." She mused.

"I just—we're both busy persons," he started to explain. "And there will come a time where we have to put things before us. Hopefully, that won't happen. But if it does, I don't want you to be alone. I'm sorry, I should have asked you first, I don't want to burden you with another responsibility—"

Raquel placed a hand on top of his to stall his rambling. "He's perfect."

"I heard Beagles are good companion dogs." He added sheepishly.

She looked at him with teary eyes. "Thank you."

"What are you going to name him?"

She paused to think about it, but there was only one name in her mind. "Icarus," she replied. Raquel thought that he wouldn't catch on the reference, but the broad smile that broke out gave him away.

Sergio pulled the gearshift to drive. "Let's bring him home, then."

For days, that was what they called his tiny apartment. Home. Neither had the need to go out, afraid that even minute separation will break the trance that held them together.

Raquel had finally felt the very thing she yearned the most for the past months. Peace. Uncertainty still bordered the serenity she experienced; was it only a front that deviated her from buried issues? There are no answers to that question.

One thing is certain, however. Here is where she feels safe and sound—wrapped around his arms; her head, cradled on his chest. And he knows.

He knows that that feeling does not come to her frequently.

So, Sergio prayed for time to halt. If not for them, then for her.

_And for the first time, the gods seemed to listen._


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! I'm back with another update. Thank you so much for your comments! (And I swear I will reply to all of them!) I hope you like this chapter. Let me know what you think!
> 
> TRIGGER WARNINGS:  
> Please do note that there mentions of anxiety attacks and sexual harassment in this chapter.
> 
> The cases presented in this chapter are based on true events.

_Isabela Cervantes files sexual harassment case on ANN's director_

_Story by: Marian Corpuz | June 24, 2019_

_MADRID, Spain—Hundreds of women and progressive groups protested in front of the Supreme Court in support of a news reporter's sexual harassment case on Friday, June 21._

_This is after the dismissal of the sexual harassment case against Enrique Mendoza, a director in Atlanta News Network, one of the country's biggest news outlets._

_The protest was attended mostly by women, female artists, and several feminist groups in support of Isabela Cervantes, a reporter of the news network and the alleged victim of the case._

_According to the statement posted by her lawyer on Facebook, Cervantes filed a sexual harassment case on Tuesday, June 11, against the Atlanta News Network's director, Enrique Mendoza. Cervantes accused Mendoza of malicious text messages and sexual innuendos._

_A restraint order has been placed on Mendoza on Friday, June 14. The Supreme Court dismissed the case without a trial after a settlement between the two parties._

_Mendoza refused to comment further on this matter._

_"We can not let this case pass," Feminist group leader Cristina Alonso says in an interview with El Pais. "Isabela is only one of the hundreds of victims of abuse in the workplace. If the High Court dismisses one, we are certain that other cases will follow."_

_The protest concluded with a performance of the Chilean feminist protest chant, "Un Violador en Tu Camino."_

* * *

Do you know what it feels to be the new girl in school? To be the one silently observing what happens around you; the audience to an unknowing cast. To spectate in what seemed to be their customs and culture whilst finding a way to mimic their actions in the future. To listen carefully to their conversations, striving to understand who among their peers they are talking about.

Raquel doesn't, but she sure does feel like a tourist among the residents in the room.

The place buzzed with life—producers are lined in front of her, facing their laptops while discussing (more like debating, if she'd be completely honest) with the writers what to or not to omit from the script. The wardrobe team sat on the bean bags near the corner, a whiteboard pressed against the wall where they pasted various photos of clothes and fabric samples. It seems that the production works like a machine—alive and bustling.

And there she was. Sat on one side of the table, content on keenly observing her new workmates. It seems that she was the first actress to step foot in the meeting. It wasn't until a few minutes later when the rest of the cast arrived. They shared a few quiet smiles, still a bit aloof with each other.

The abrasive noise halted when the director entered the conference room, a thick, black folder clutched to her chest, while a black leather briefcase hung on her left shoulder. For a director in the rather competitive media industry, she seems to be very young and charismatic. The way her blazer and heels matched her skinny, ripped jeans said so.

Next to her was a man in his late middle age. The scruff on his face and the wrinkled lines on his forehead made him as twice as intimidating than his stance already makes him. For some reason, the man seemed oddly familiar. He whispers once to the director and sat on the seat next to the projector.

"Good morning," a petite woman with a bob haircut stood up and greeted everyone. "Welcome to the first meeting of our upcoming film. I am Maria, your first assistant director. This is Talia," she pointed to her left, "our director, and Mr. Santiago Alvarez, the executive producer of the film."

Her eyes met with the man Maria just mentioned and that's where it hits her. Santiago was a close colleague of Alberto. She met him on one of their casino nights, with Raquel posing as a trophy wife adorned at the side of her now ex-husband. If the actress could remember correctly, Santiago lost 25,000 euros on a single game.

The assistant director continued to introduce the production team to the cast members, each one throwing a wave and a shy smile to the actors. Once the introductory rituals are over, one of the head producers wasted no time and took over the meeting. A woman in her early thirties sporting a lavender-colored hair proceeded to discuss all production matters—locations, duration of filming, finances, and all the in-betweens.

The lead actress found it difficult to focus on the overwhelming details. It wasn’t her turf; and for other subtle reasons. Thankfully she had mastered her I'm-not-listening-to-what-you're-saying-but-it-looks-as-if-I-do face in college, when she had to listen to her dates go off about sports and other jock things she doesn't understand. The meeting ended with one of the production assistants handing her a call sheet. About a week before she's needed on set. Great. More time to rehearse.

Raquel was headed for the door before she is stalled by the films' director, Talia Garcia. "I am looking forward to working with you." The young artist gave a warm smile to her actress.

The latter returned the favor. "You, as well. Thank you for this opportunity."

Coming to the mainstream industry with a background in independent filmmaking, it was only substantial that one could expect only the best from her. Talia was, to say the least, very brutal in her career. Not only was she able to present her films in several international film festivals; she is also one of the youngest members of the Federation of European Film Directors. To say that Raquel was nervous upon working with her is an understatement.

"Of course." Talia leaned to Raquel as if what she was about to say was a world-class secret. "Don't tell anyone, but I already imagined you for the role when they tapped me for the job."

The actress was taken aback. Not knowing what to respond, she settles with a simple sentence. "I am honored. Truly."

"Hey, don't thank me yet. You can thank me with a dinner with the directors in St. Petersburg when we get there. Kidding."

Raquel joked back, "I'll make sure to draft a request to the finance for that."

"Don't tell me I made you do it, okay?"

You see, this was why Raquel relished in working with female-dominated productions. Nothing beats the camaraderie formed among members of the female population. There is no need for the formal, business talk men do that would drag on for hours trying to outdo each other with superficial success and achievements.

Just then, the director's personal assistant rushed to her side with a phone in her hand, waiting to be answered. Talia excused herself for a minute before holding the call to bid her farewell to Raquel. "Hey, I have to go, but I'll see you soon, okay?"

She nodded, clutching the folder she was given tighter on her chest. "I'll see you in a few days."

As much as Raquel hoped for a productive day ahead, the sky seemed to tell her otherwise. Grey clouds loomed over the sky, casting a dark shadow on the faces of those walking in the business district of the city. Faint flashes of lightning and the low rumbling of the thunder can be seen and heard from a distance. In the language of commoners like her, the sky called for rest.

Not a few minutes later, imminent rain started to drizzle from the sky. Light at first, before it gradually intensified; heavy water droplets drummed along the pavement, creating dark circular patterns on it. It was a rather unusual feat for such weather like this to arrive during the country's hottest months. Hopefully, a little rain won't hurt anyone.

The sound of rushed footsteps from behind her brought her out of her reverie. "Hi." A man holding a black leather briefcase overhead approached her. "Do you mind me sharing an umbrella?"

"No, no. I don't mind." Raquel quickly made room for the two of them. "Here."

The man saw the uncomfortable position Raquel was in, holding up their protection. "Sorry, I'll just carry it for us." He grabbed it from the actress's grasp. "I'm Lorenzo."

"I'm—"

Lorenzo cut her off, "Raquel Murillo. I was in the meeting earlier." The actress noted the folder he clutching with his other hand. It was the same as hers.

"Sorry, I kind of spaced out, I didn’t catch on a lot." She sheepishly apologized.

He agreed, but for some reason, Raquel didn't seem offended. "You seemed to have wandered off."

"If you were in the meeting, what’s your—?" Raquel bobbed her head to the material on his hand.

"Oh. Head writer and producer."

"You translated the book into the screenplay very well. It’s a strong material." She complimented. The script she used to rehearse her lines was a rough draft, but she could already see the movie playing out in her mind.

"It's a collaborative work. We're proud of it." He smiled at her comment. "And we’re very lucky to have you as our lead."

As if on cue, an empty cab loomed in front of the building the production resides in. The man beside her hailed the cab and waited for its arrival.

Lorenzo opened the passenger door for her before handing the umbrella back. "Ladies first."

Raquel just stared at the blue material. "You’ll get soaked."

"I’ll manage." He replied.

"Here," the actress gave the paraphernalia back to the writer. "Just return it soon. Nice meeting you, Lorenzo."

He presented a polite smile. "Likewise, Ms. Raquel."

* * *

_There were only a few things that made Raquel nervous._

_Having been trained both by the theatre and the police force, she found relaxation in front of an audience and comfort in life-threatening events. Of course, she prefers the former than the latter, but she encounters both on a regular basis, it's appropriate to label it as her box._

_And with complacency with said box, comes the reluctancy to try new things. Which bring her back to she was pacing back and forth in her new job._

_It's her first day on set._

_Everything intimidated her. The director's chair. The large equipment and the train tracks they were laying out on the road. The producers with megaphones strapped across their bodies. Even the sight of the clapperboard makes her nauseous. Not to mention that she is still bridging and separating acting on stage and in films._

_Irony liked to play a game in Raquel's life because the only thing that gave her comfort was the police uniform she was currently wearing. The exact replica of the same one she gave up months ago. In a way, it feels different now that there was nothing masking between her and the police force's dirty work._

_The fake gun that hung from the holster on her waist grew heavy each passing minute. Such as the day she decided to quit the national police. The newly-promoted sub-inspector liked to show off, to say the least. Being a woman holding such a position, and one she acquired faster than her other colleagues, compelled her to take on a heavier workload. If only to prove that she was worthy of her current position._

_Raquel could vividly remember that paperwork she was drawing up that day. Drug cartels. Nothing new, if she were to be honest, but something caught her eye amidst her arranging said paperwork. A certain case on a drug cartel leader in Madrid who is supposedly convicted, yet the text before her says otherwise. The suspect was now safely hiding in the outskirts of Seville. Who, in their right mind, would look for an imprisoned man in a city with a population of almost two million?_

_She didn't know how the page got lost in the sea of papers she had been arranging, but she compared it to the one filed in their office and found some discrepancies. It took her days before she mustered up the courage to follow the address stated on the document._

_The sub-inspector only had to loom over the said private property before she recognized the familiar faces of her work colleagues. Disgust filled her. Not only were they protecting a guilty man in a gated community; she also pieced together that the string of murders are done by them. "Unknown Assailants" her ass. This was not the organization she worked for._

_The very people who pledged to protect the country are the very people who endanger it._

_Raquel confronted their commissioner, who played nonchalantly and called her absurd for even speculating it. Having studied a minor in Psychology and police negotiation, she wasn't foreign to the concept of body language. She knew he was covering up for them._

_The sub-inspector surrendered her pistol and badge two days later. Sergio would be proud of her if only he wasn't coward enough to dodge every call or text she sends his way._

_She found herself back on stage not a month later, still undecided which direction her life will take now. Luck must have been on her side because on her show's closing night, a casting director asked for her to audition for an independent film. Knowing how unstable a career in acting was, she took the opportunity._

_And that's how she finds herself on set. Pacing around like a pendulum. Left. Right. Left. Right._

_"Hey." A producer her age approached her. "Raquel, right?" She recognized the woman from her audition. She was one of the spectators when she tried out for the role._

_"Yeah." She affirms._

_"Your first film?" The producer asks in a soothing voice._

_She nods. "Sorry, I feel unprofessional."_

_"Don't be. We've all been there."_

_Raquel smiles._

_"You'll do fine. You're a natural. If we had the chance to hire you upfront we would have done it." The other woman lowers her voice, apprehensive that someone would hear them._

_"Thank you," Raquel settles, but it has done nothing to calm her nerves._

_The woman before her adjusted her ear-piece. "They'll call places in a few. Good luck." Raquel beamed at the use of the theatre terminology in an attempt to ease her anxious mind. She jumped around to release tension, and from Raquel Murillo she turned into her character._

_"Last looks!" The first assistant director called._

* * *

A group of three women hovered over Raquel, fixing her appearance as she recited her lines softly. A stout blonde woman retouched her makeup while the other two flitted over her curled hair and her clothes. When her wardrobe team was finally satisfied with her look, the three women retreated to their previous places.

"Last looks!" The first assistant director repeated from the tent at the end of the closed road. "Picture is up!" All fell silent to Maria's command.

"Roll sound?" She asks through her megaphone followed by a resounding "speed!" by the first assistant camera. "Roll camera?" She repeats, and the operator affirms.

Satisfied, Maria calls. "Scene 23. Take 6. Mark 3." The clapperboard is heard, and Raquel heaves a sigh.

"Background action!" Talia yells from her seat, and the extras began their businesses. Incomprehensive noise is heard from the actors. A few seconds later, the director's voice echoed through the set. "Action!"

And that's when she took off.

Adrenaline rushed through her as her feet instinctively ran to the speeding car before her. She moved past the people on the streets who stared at her for doing such a brave, yet stupid venture. The car halted to a stop before she moved to the driver's side to forcibly yank him out of his seat.

"Cut!" The director shouts and an audible collective sigh is heard from the team. They had to wrap up the set soon, and filming the same scene the following week means they would have to make necessary adjustments so early in the production.

Talia eyed her team before approaching the two actors. "Raquel, can you move a little to the center when you're running toward the car? The previous shot is a little asymmetrical." She pointed toward the line marks they placed during rehearsal earlier. The actress nodded, taking the instructions in.

The director turned to her co-actor and gave her reminders as well. "Gael, I have to see a little more emotion from you as you try to run over her. Show me how determined you are to get to the other side of the road. In this case, she _is_ the road. Got it?"

With a heavy sigh and weary eyes, the actors replied. "Got it."

"I know you're tired," Talia's tone turned a little softer, "but let's try to wrap this up. We wouldn't be able to shoot anyway, the sun is already starting to set." The director gave a firm pat on her actors' shoulders before she returned to her throne.

"Back to one!" Maria commands, and everyone returned to their exact previous places. If time travelers did exist, they probably worked in the media industry. The ability of all the actors and the production to repeat their actions in a consistent manner never ceased to amaze Raquel. That is already a talent and skill on its own.

"Martini shot, everybody!" The first assistant director shouts with excitement painted all over her tone.

Last shot of the day. While the team beamed at the thought of the first drop of alcohol down their tongues, Raquel lit up at the thought of her plopping down on the bed in peace. Maybe call Sergio to see how Icarus was doing. The actress shook off all tension from her body as she repeated her first lines in her head like a mantra.

The usual calls are yelled, and Maria settles. "Scene 23. Take 7. Mark 3."

"Action!" The director cues.

She runs.

Blood pumped through her veins, going at par with the rush she currently felt. The sound of her heeled boots plummeting on the cemented road only roused her to sprint toward her enemy. Even if the invigorating background music was still yet to be layered, she could already feel the exhilaration the outcome would be.

The tires screeched and she moves past the driver's door, coaxing it open with her left hand. She pulls the man by the collar and seethes. "Thinking of getting away?"

"It hasn't even crossed my mind," Nicolas replies before yanking his arms from her and pinning her to the side of the car. The rehearsed combat scene plays out until she is leaning headfirst onto the hood of the car, hands on her back.

What comes out from Talia's mouth may be the best thing she's heard all day. "Cut! Good take!" All actors stayed in place in case there were any anomalies and they had to run through the scene again. "Check the gate. All good?"

The first assistant director meticulously checked the tape. "Good." The director nods and moves to vacate her chair. "Wrap up!"

"You did well." Gael compliments her before heading out to the trailers set out for the lead actors.

"I could say the same," Raquel mused. "I think I already have my favorite scene."

"Just wait until you are actually able to catch these hands.” Gael waved his palms to emphasize his point.

Then, they parted ways. Gael to his trailer, Raquel to the propped mini-snack bar. A scone was already halfway to Raquel's mouth when someone stepped beside her. "It’s a sunny day, don't you think?" Lorenzo started a conversation.

Raquel took a bite before replying. He could wait, she was famished. "The sun already set."

"Still. No need for an umbrella."

Raquel laughed at the memory. "You ought to return the one you borrowed."

"I would," the producer grabbed a few croissants from the plate before him. "If I actually brought it with me."

Her tone challenged him. "Then you're lucky the weather is in your favor."

"I did a little rain dance before leaving my place earlier." He placed the plate on the table and started to do a little ritual dance that made Raquel laugh uncontrollably. Lorenzo steers the conversation away before the actress's interest faded away. "Do you want to grab a few drinks with the team later? Nothing too wild, I promise."

She shook her head politely. "No, thank you. I think I'd rather have the company of my bed and duvet tonight."

Lorenzo nodded, "of course. Have a good night's rest." He took it as a cue to leave the actress.

Raquel called out. "You too. Enjoy the drinks."

Fatigue engulfed her the moment her back hit the leather material of the production's trailer van. A heavy sigh escapes her lips as she fluttered her eyes close. In her mind, she has already surrendered to the wonderful land of slumber with the low rev of the engine lulling her to sleep. She never slept on the road, so the actress resolved to watching the streetlights pass by her, creating a long, ragged line of lights before her eyes.

An hour passes by, no thanks to the rush hour in the city's business district before she alights in front of her apartment. The familiar black and white exterior registers into her half-asleep mind, her bed on the second floor of her duplex already pulling her toward it.

Just before her hand reaches the doorknob, the familiar high-pitched note rang from her phone. Followed by another. And another. And another. Her tired eyes fumbled through the lock screen, barely missing the passcode of her phone.

Her mind sees the unknown number and she immediately stiffens. Raquel didn't need a registered contact to find out who sent the messages. There was nothing drowsy about her at all.

**"I heard that you were in the protest earlier. Empowering, isn’t it?"**

She scrolls further down.

**"Don’t you even think about spilling the truth behind the divorce. No one will listen to you. You know that."**

**"If a word gets out, you know what will happen."**

**"I put a good word for them to hire you. You owe me, Raquel."**

**"You always owe me."**

Thoughts subsided, and all forms of cognition are halted. She could only think of one thing.

_She shouldn't be alone._

Raquel could already draw the lamppost across the street from memory. That's where her gaze burned for the past five minutes, her thoughts (or lack thereof) only disrupted by vehicles passing by her. An empty cab slows down before her, the driver looking out if the person on the sidewalk is in need of his service. She is jolted from her reverie and she nods.

The driver sensed her inability to speak, with her rigid posture and fleeting gaze. He only asks, "where to, Miss?"

At that moment, she felt safer than she did for the past minutes. She narrates the familiar address.

_Sergio's._

When she arrived at his apartment, only the front porch light was open. It didn't even come to her that he might not be home. Bracing herself for the answer, she knocked on the door rather loudly. It was only then when anger seethed through her. She knocked on the door once more, echoes of the wood being plummeted resounded in the living room.

Hurried footsteps are heard from behind the door. Sergio flung the door open, surprised to see a distraught, yet wrathful actress before him. "Raquel?" His tone was full of surprise. Blazing, tearful eyes met him. "Are you okay?"

He moved aside, letting her inside. She lets herself in, finally able to let out the breath she was holding for so long. Sergio reached to her wrist, asking for her attention. She turns her head toward his way and the loud thud of her duffel bag hitting the floor was heard.

She tackled his lips, and he moves backward, almost rendering him out of balance. She pulls him by the collar of his shirt, her palms fisting the crisp, white material. Her hands guided his to her waist, _begging him_ to make her feel something. To take her out of the numbness she was currently feeling.

She kissed him with such fervor, such vigor, there was no room for apprehension. He drinks her in, _breathes her in_ , as she pulled him toward the second room to their right—his bedroom.

In her hazy, drunken-like state, comprehension failed her. The room that had been witness to all of her and Sergio's moments together is replaced by the very place she wanted to erase from her mind.

Their feet barely made it to the bed when Raquel suddenly grew tense. A sob breaks out, like a dam brimming with water waiting for it to be let out. She tried to keep it in, shrouding herself in what seemed to be the little traces left from her dignity; her tenacity. Her forehead rested on his shoulder, salt tears leaving a trail on his shirt. She can't seem to keep it in now; her sobs uncontrollable. She feels weak, vulnerable, defenseless. As if a single cut would split her open. 

Her chest tightens and then followed the challenge for air. Brick by brick, the walls started to close in, suffocating her. She crawls upward, reaching for leverage, but water drowns her down. She tries to move, but she is frozen to her spot. She could neither move nor think. It seems that all thoughts abandoned her. 

Her vision is distorted by the tears that welled in her eyes.

"Raquel." She was so focused on the pursuit of air, she didn't realize he was holding her rigid body. "Can you look at me?" His worried eyes searched for hers. He could see them, but no sign of perception is present.

She nods, and as if someone heaved her out of the water, she took her first breath.

Once.

Twice.

Thrice.

Then, the need for air heightens. The pace of her breath quickens, like she ran a marathon.

"Breathe with me, Raquel." He guides her hand onto his chest. The slow rise and fall of his chest can be felt from her palms. She mirrors the action, failing at first, before she was able to synchronize her breaths to his.

Eventually, Raquel calms down. Her weary body leans on Sergio, who gave her the physical support she needs. He props them up on the bed, his arms wrapped around her torso, while her head is cradled on the space between his neck and shoulders.

"You're here. Not anywhere else." It felt as if long nails scratched her throat, rendering her speechless. Instead, she nods her understanding.

_She's here. Not anywhere else._

"Thank you," was all her raspy voice could muster.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

She shakes her head. "Not yet."

He doesn't push her and instead offers her a glass of water of some milk chocolate hidden somewhere in the fridge. While he wasn't able to provide comfort with words, he made up with his gestures.

Her hands roamed around his body. The rough patch of his beard, the black-rimmed glasses he always wore, the hem of his shirt that was now wrinkled from her unforgiving palms, the long, winding veins on his forearm, and his chest that bears an organ that beats steadily. She needed to feel something.

Raquel somehow refused to sleep, attempting to keep her eyes wide awake, subtly afraid that she'd wake up to a different place. Restlessness trumped over her reluctance to surrender to slumber. It took her a few minutes to settle down, but not before she repeats Sergio's words in her head.

The same mantra that got her through the night.

_She's here. Not anywhere else._

_She's here. Not anywhere else._

_She's here. Not anywhere else._


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if this update took weeks to finish! I hope you enjoy this one!

Tuesday, July 02, 2019.

If PermaSmile was a real thing, Raquel would be the first one to purchase the product.

Her cheekbones were starting to get strained from all this excessive smiling Tokio demanded from her. The lights helped; the bright tungsten light bulbs before her made her eyes squint, thus making them look smaller.

"Move a little to your right and lean on your left." Her photographer friend directed her, pointing toward the small 'x' on her right. Raquel did as she was told. The camera started flashing again, and the actress (now model) shifted to different angles, making sure the embellished fabric stood out in the shot.

To say that the dress was just beautiful was a crime punishable by three years of jail time in a very, very bland, fashion-free prison.

It was _immaculate._ If she could think of other superlative adjectives to describe the gown, she would. But for the lack of the words, she settled with that. The actress felt that she did not do the dress justice. It was a figure-hugging beige evening gown. There was a high cut that reached her thigh, and a low v-neckline that made her self-esteem vanish. On the torso was the marvelous handsewn beadwork that must have cost the designer countless painstaking hours trying to get everything in the perfect place.

If this was the output of an aspiring designer, Raquel would be more than interested to see how said designer's work will look like when they're finally being walked down the runway during Paris Fashion Week.

Tokio moved to a different area. "Stay on your spot," she halted her model's movement. "Look to your right and hold your chin up. Expose your neck." Raquel followed Tokio's directions. About three angles and twenty shots later, the sound of the studio lights being turned off resounded in both Raquel and Tokio's ears. "Take fifteen, everybody!"

"How did I look?" Raquel anxiously asked as she stepped out of the makeshift backdrop in the studio.

The photographer turned the camera to her and started to go through the pictures. "You were perfect. Sergio's going to lose his mind when he sees these." The photos were still unedited—far from the standards of Vogue España, yet she couldn't deny that it did look stunning.

"Oh please," Raquel dismissed the thought with a wave of her hand. "He's seen me in all my premiere clothing, and he never came close to having a cardiac arrest. How's your portfolio coming through?"

"Good. In fact, you would be on it."

Raquel gulped. "Both a privilege and a nightmare at once. You're really putting my face there?"

"Yes. No buts. The shots were stunning. And I make you look twice as good with my photos." Even in doubt, Raquel had to agree. Tokio possessed the skill and talent to turn the most unpleasant landscapes into a place you would want to spend your vacation at. The same goes for her models. What these people lack in the emotional aspects, the photographer makes up with her talent in visual manipulation.

"Touché."

The photographer led her friend to a minibar her assistants propped up on one side of the studio. Various gluten-free pastries lay on the wooden board. Next to it were small portions of a green salad carefully placed on a fine China plate. If you'd place the studio lights on the side of the table, you'd be able to shoot something straight out of a food magazine.

"Here," Tokio handed her a glass of sparkling wine. "Monica came by my place yesterday and asked about you."

Raquel beamed. "I'll check up on her later. How is she, anyway?"

"The woman is glowing. If my instincts got it correctly, she might be going for baby no. 2." Her friend lowered her voice as if she was spilling the world's biggest secret.

"Won't be surprised if it is. Have you checked up on Alicia lately?"

"If our forced subscription to Carlos Daily is not an implication of how engrossed she is with her family, I don't know what will." A laugh bubbled out from the two women.

"She deserves her happiness. They've waited long for that kid." Raquel mused.

"That they did." Tokio agreed. "I've noticed something different with you when we started the shoot."

"Hm?" Raquel looked up to her friend while munching on a bland biscuit. It could _definitely_ use some honey.

"You look radiant." Tokio pointed out.

Raquel narrowed her eyes. "The photos turned out good."

"No. Either I'm winning our no-pregnancy streak, or you're finally getting it."

Raquel almost choked on the pastry in her mouth and hurriedly sipped on her glass of the alcoholic beverage. In her mind, the gears are already turning, creating calculations when she last took the pill, and when her last period was.

Hopefully, she did not take too long to reply. "I'm not pregnant."

"Of course, you would deny the former but not the latter." A goading smirk played on Tokio's face. "Interesting."

She rolled her eyes at her friend. "Leave me alone."

"Seriously though, you look happier." Tokio's tone turned more sincere. "You deserve to be happy too, you know. You've always looked out for other people. I think it's time you look out for yourself and what would make you happy."

It's not that Raquel was sabotaging her own happiness, but she found it difficult to allow herself to feel that emotion again—that sense of freedom, of contentment, of finally being able to live again—not when for the past years, all she's felt was misery.

Not knowing how to respond to Tokio's statement, she joked. "Are you saying that my happiness depends on a man?"

The woman before her groaned. "God, no. They're imbeciles. I just think that this certain man is helping you look at the better side of things."

"Yeah. He does."

"Has it really never occurred in both of your brains to pursue each other?"

Raquel narrated the words that have long since been redundant, and by now tasted lackluster on her tongue. "We’ve always been just friends."

"And now?"

"I don’t know." Raquel shrugged, a faint look of confusion present in her eyes. "The lines are blurred."

And that's how Tokio found out that the only game of pretend the two were still playing at is pretending that they haven't always longed, _yearned_ , for each other.

"Maybe the lines never existed in the first place." Tokio replied, but she was not facing Raquel. Her gaze was fixed on the direction of the studio's glass doors. The actress turned around to face the photographer's new focal point.

_Sergio._

He stood at the entrance awkwardly, looking around for the small brunette woman he occasionally calls his "fiancée". The man in his usual suit jacket, white shirt, and charcoal grey necktie neared Raquel. "Hi."

"Hey." Raquel earnestly smiled; her mood immediately brightening up at the sight of him.

He returned the gesture and did something that very much surprised her. He pulled her toward him and placed his lips on hers, inviting her for a kiss. A short one, much to Raquel's dismay, but enough to render her speechless. She smiled against his lips, before pulling away.

"Disgusting." Tokio scoffed, who looked at them with distaste. "I'm going to take a smoke while you two lovebirds catch up. Make sure you change into your next suit in 5."

"Duly noted." Raquel laughed breathily, her senses still not catching up to her. "How are you?" She returned her focus to the man before her.

"Better now than at work. They're piling up my paperwork."

"You poor thing. Must have been so unfortunate." Her palms stayed on his jaw, her fingertips tracing the ends of his trimmed beard. "Where’s Icarus?"

"I left him with the neighbor’s son. An aspiring vet, he seems."

Raquel smiled at the thought of Sergio's twelve-year-old neighbor babysitting their dog. "Okay, good. I’ll fetch him later if it’s okay with you?”

"Anything." Sergio nodded and leaned in to whisper in her ear—an essential knowledge, but he still liked to make it known. "You look beautiful. Thought I might have had a heart attack earlier."

Raquel made a sound of mock agreement. "You’re a flirt."

"Only with you."

The actress rolled her eyes. "Are you staying until I finish?"

"What else would I be here for?"

"Right. You’re just doing your job of being my driver. Thanks."

Just then, a shy looking assistant of Tokio's approached them and led her to the small hair and make-up room. Sergio followed suit but stopped before entering the room. He seemed content at leaning against the doorframe and meeting Raquel's gaze through the mirror.

"You’re a very beautiful couple." Jasmin, the aspiring designer who made the exquisite gown she wore in her previous shoot, commented.

Raquel smiled at the designer, but not before sending a wink toward Sergio. "Thank you."

"I don’t want to impose on anything, but here is my card if you’d want me to design your wedding gown." The younger woman fished around in her purse and gave her a calling card.

"Sure. I’ll give you a call."

"I’m no Dior or Balenciaga, but I could design something for you."

With wary thoughts, Raquel decided to engage Jasmin. There's no harm in imagining yourself in a wedding dress you'll never wear, right? "What do you have in mind?"

The designer pulled Raquel's hair in an updo. "A Sabrina neckline would do wonders on you." Jasmin grabbed a makeup brush from the table before her and lightly traced a straight line on her left upper arm until the right. "Have you decided on a venue?"

"I’ve had my fair share of church weddings. A beach wedding, I suppose.”

"A beaded sweetheart neckline, then. Loose sleeves from sheer fabric. And tulle. Lots of them."

"I’m sure it would look as beautiful as you described it."

The hair and make-up team proceeded to tend to her, a pair of hands meticulously re-applying her makeup, making it look darker and bolder than it had been previously. While she was being prepped by Tokio's employees, her mind wandered off.

Somewhere nice and warm.

In a way, she could already feel the breeze born from the palm trees flitting and dancing to the sound of birds chirping and the waves crashing along the shore. The smell of the salt air was so pervasive, that even in her fancy it gave her a sense of nostalgia, unlocking a memory she didn't know existed.

On that plane, she stood in a flowy, white dress—the one her designer just described earlier. The movement of the hem mirrored the ripples of the waves while obeying Raquel's small movements. Her hair was pulled up in a half updo, the rather large curls fairly windswept. There, near the shoreline, is someone waiting for her. She doesn’t even have to look further to know who that is.

She shook her head lightly, determined to break her reverie. Thoughts like these should be forbidden; locked away in the furthermost part of the mind. The more she allows herself to slip away into places like these, the more hurt she's going to get when reality finally comes knocking in.

"Hey, Raquel?" A light tap on her shoulder asked for her attention. She looked at the designer who held up a white garment bag.

"Would you like to change into the suit?"

Forcing a smile, she pushed herself out of her chair. "Of course. Thanks."

“How do I look?” She walked toward her fiancé who was looking at her in awe. He didn’t have to say anything to prove how beautiful and powerful she looked. Not that any word will suffice.

The elegant dress she donned earlier was replaced by a two-piece power suit in the color of blood. The dark red material contrasted her fair complexion perfectly. The pantsuit fit snugly on her legs, stopping right before her ankles to emphasize the five-inch black platform heels she wore. Underneath her blazer lies a lace top of the same hue. One that did nothing but accentuate her upper body and push her chest further up.

One that made Sergio inevitably gape at the woman before her—like he would worship the very ground she walked on. He stared at her with such adoration, such fascination, she didn’t know whether to cower in shyness or to bask in her newfound esteem.

_But God, she reveled at the way he looked at her._

He settled on a word. “Arresting.” Sergio’s hands went to her waist, absentmindedly pulling her close. In a sense, it was an instinct. An involuntary action. Raquel moved away before she was fully engulfed in him.

“Help me?” The actress held up the laurel wreath choker the designer matched with the outfit. Sergio swept her hair to the side, his fingertips resting on the little skin her blazer allowed to expose. He stood so close behind her, the cologne he religiously wore started to overwhelm her senses.

It took Sergio a few seconds longer to clasp the lock together than he normally does. He probably did it deliberately. Raquel rolled her eyes at the thought.

He reached out to curtain her hair back to its previous place. Then, he leaned in close to her ear. “A beach wedding, huh?”

Just then, Tokio’s voice rang in the studio. “We’re back in 2! Is everyone ready?” Then, the people around her went back to work. Except for the two of them. It seems that they’re stuck in their own little bubble.

Raquel turned to where the sound came from but ignored it. “Not what you originally planned?”

“Not really, no. I could make the necessary adjustments, though.” And there it was again; the little somersault her stomach does with his words. It wasn’t even that romantic—a casual banter between two friends? Lovers? She didn’t know what to call them.

She looked him in the eyes, searching for sincerity in them. Raquel couldn’t decide just yet. “Color me interested.” Then, with all the might left in her body, she gave him a little, seductive wink, and went back to work.

While the suit she wore screamed of power and absolute confidence, the actress felt a tad bit conscious, with a certain someone staring at her. If his gaze could start a fire, her clothes will be completely incinerated, and she would be donning burn marks all over her body.

The photographer sensed her model’s sudden change of demeanor. Tokio looked at her back and saw Sergio observing their work with contentment. The short-haired woman debated whether to ask him to leave the studio momentarily or taunt Raquel more by asking him to move toward them. She decided against anything and instead, gave directions to the woman in the red suit.

Gradually, Raquel soon regained her self-esteem and was finally dominating the studio once again.

“That was good. I missed working with you.” Tokio stated while dismantling her expensive camera from its equally expensive tripod. The actress nodded, a grateful smile flitting from her red painted lips.

She reached for Sergio, who was standing beside her. “Sergio, this is Tokio.” She turned to her friend, “Tokio, Sergio.”

Sergio offered his hand. “Nice meeting you.” Tokio took it, squinting her eyes in reluctance.

“Do you want to scare him off?” Raquel offered, knowing that her friends waited long enough for her to meet a man and threaten them.

Tokio wasted no time and moved between Raquel and Sergio. She only stood a few inches taller than the actress, but her demeanor proved that it was further up. “Do you see that tripod over there? That’s the most expensive model and the most recent one I bought.” She pointed to the black, metal paraphernalia. “If you ever leave Raquel brokenhearted, even think about doing it...”

“Tokio...” Raquel started.

But her friend ignored her. “It’s going to go straight to your head. Got it?”

A look of terror was present in Sergio’s eyes, which made the two women before him snicker. He cleared his throat before speaking up. “Crystal clear.”

Tokio gave Sergio’s shoulder a firm pat on the shoulder, a promise and a threat present in her gesture. “Good.” Then, she turned to Raquel, quickly changing her attitude. From feisty to something a little less intense. “Tell me when you’re free to catch up, alright?”

Raquel nodded, already making a mental note to schedule their catch up. “I’m sure I can fit a wine night on a weekend.”

The woman before her nodded. “Let me know. I’ll let you go now.”

“I’ll see you soon.” Raquel reached out and gave the taller woman an affectionate hug. “Give Jasmin my thanks.”

“Will do.” The photographer returned to her previous business, but not before taking advantage of the awkward man Raquel was with. “Oh, and Sergio? Nice wallpaper. If you want a clearer copy, just ask me. Raquel’s got my email.”

He nodded and muttered a simple, “thanks.”

Sergio tried to keep his phone in his suit pocket the whole elevator ride down, but Raquel was determined to find out what Tokio was teasing him about earlier. Before her hands could even reach the newly dry-cleaned jacket of his, he already held his phone up overhead, knowing well that Raquel wouldn’t be able to reach it.

The sound of the elevator stopping on the third floor distracted Sergio from his task, unconsciously lowering it enough for Raquel to grab it. Defeated, he only looked at her as she tapped the screen open. It was of her in the red suit she wore earlier.

As she painted a taunting smirk at him, it became unclear to her which one was redder in hue: the power suit Jasmin designed, or Sergio’s face.

_Raquel pulled him to a dark, secluded area, excitement and elation looming over them. The rush she felt was unforgiving. Sergio whispered, caution present in his tone. “Should we really be doing this?”_

_She laughed. “No.”_

_Sergio looked around the dark area. So far, they were safe. “Then why am I here?”_

_“Because,” she said matter-of-factly, “if we get caught, I don't want to be alone in detention. Or jail. Whatever is more fitting for a college student.”_

_Right. Jail time. Probably one to two days, then another 36 hours of community service; and that still depends on what charges they would press. That’s what they would be facing if they get caught because of Raquel’s sudden bursts of spontaneity during final’s week. Last year, it was a prank on a faculty member that embarrassed her in front of the class during a lecture. This year, it was sneaking inside a museum near their university._ At midnight.

_It took Sergio hours of negotiation (in other words: blackmail) before she got him to join her. He tried to escape the deed by hiding in the library early in the night, but Raquel was quick to her feet and always knew where to find him. His reluctance grew as Raquel refused to let him in on the plans until they were outside the museum in question, but Raquel was not only a negotiator in the making, she also had a minor in Psychology. And Psychology students had a reputation of being mind readers one way or another._

_Sergio agreed not long after._

_“If you get caught who would bail you?”_

_Raquel was unsure. “My boyfriend?”_

_Sergio challenged her. “Where would he get the money?”_

_The young woman looked around once more, ensuring that no one would be a possible witness. “If you don't shut up within the next ten seconds, we both would land our asses in the precinct.”_

_“Okay, ma'am.”_

_Raquel suddenly grabbed his hand and quietly sprinted toward an empty corner from across the street. “Where are you taking—an alleyway? I didn't know you had it in you.” Sergio’s chest was pressed against hers, the small almost enclosed space driving them further into proximity._

_Raquel whispered softer this time. “I have it in me, you don't.”_

_She checked her watch every thirty seconds, her gaze burning through her left wrist. 11:13 PM. The young sociologist tried to focus on the task, but Sergio proved to be the perfect, worst, distraction. “Oh, really? Is that why you draw hearts around on my name on your notes?”_

_Losing track of time, she looked at him in annoyance. “Are you still not over your high school fantasies about me? Get over it, it's not going to happen.”_

_He placed a palm over his heart and feigned being wounded. “Oh, my aching heart.”_

_“You done?”_

_“Yep.” He replied, popping the “p” to irritate her more._

_“Okay. So, here's the plan. We're going to play hide-and-seek with the security guard.”_

_“What? Is he going to count to ten too?”_

_“Ha-ha.” Sergio really liked to put up a banter during a time where she’s supposed to stay keen. “It's going to be fun.”_

_“You have a distorted concept of fun.” He deadpanned._

_“Says the one who wants to dissect cadavers for a career.”_

_When her wristwatch finally struck 11:15 PM, she narrated their plans. “We're going to enter through the back door, it's unsecured. I checked.” She pointed toward a dimly lit area that catered to the back-entryway Raquel mentioned. “It leads to the docking area then there's a door that I'll have to pick and we're good to go. We roam around for a few minutes then go back to where we came from.” She explained simply._

_But Sergio despised the simplicity of things. “How about security cameras? Alarms?”_

_Raquel looked at him ridiculously. “It's not a high-end museum. They don't keep stolen artifacts from Spain's colonies here.”_

_Then, their waiting game began. After the unknowing cleaner rolled his cart from the back-entryway at exactly 11:20 PM, they waited 30 seconds more before entering the said door. The docking area served more as a storage room than a place where vehicles that deliver new exhibit pieces arrive. Artworks and replicas of famous paintings are pressed against one side of the wall._

_Raquel pulled Sergio’s wrist with caution and led him to the second door they would trespass for the night. She presented a keychain with a flashlight and forced him to hold it in place and keep guard as she tried the pick the padlock securing the door. After a few attempts, the lock finally gave in, and a triumphant smile is present on Raquel’s face._

_They kept their heads low to avoid any security cameras as they roamed around the museum, she could only hope that the black material of their clothes offers them some sort of concealment. The museum kept all the lights off save for the blue overhead led lights. It served them perfectly as they could still see the artworks, but not illuminating so much that it betrayed them by producing shadows._

_Sergio felt stiff and rigid beside her, his palms turning cold as they wrap around hers, ready to be taken away in the unfortunate case of a security guard chasing them. A contrast of his annoying banter earlier. But after seeing her revel in this kind of adventure, he found himself secretly enjoying as well, taking note of every artist and medium of the pieces they come across._

_Raquel stopped in front of a large painting, a feminist version of the famous “Liberty Leading the People” painting. It’s almost in the exact same art style; the admirer giving a compliment to the artist for being able to replicate even the most minute detail of the original painting._

_She looked to her right, her companion staring intently at her—not the painting. “Take a picture, it lasts longer,” Raquel said softly._

_He smiled and grabbed her hand, his fingers absentmindedly intertwining with hers. “Come on, let’s see the other pieces.”_

_Near the end of their spontaneous trip, they made one last stop to the section where post-modern versions of the bust statues of Greek gods were displayed._

_“Hey, this looks like you.” Sergio pointed to a bust of a goddess._

_Raquel sneered. “You think you're so funny, huh?”_

_Sergio leaned toward the information card near the statue and squinted. “In my defense, it's a bust of Aphrodite.”_

_Raquel sighed. “Yes, but you didn't know that when you said it, didn't you?”_

_Just then, a flashlight shone on the corner of the room, barely missing them. The security personnel strobed the light around in search of the culprits, but they were already on the floor. “Who’s there?” The security’s voice echoed in the area, then followed by a loud yawn._

_Sergio was leaning on one of the wooden plinths, his back turned from the guard. Before him, was Raquel on all fours, her hair curtaining from her shoulder. She looked over the pedestal every two seconds, biting her lip to repress the laughter that threatened to escape from her lips._

_Despite their current situation, Sergio could only think of one certain thing._

Raquel looked stunning.

_The heavy footsteps of the security personnel became softer after a few long minutes. She sat down in front of him, taking a rest before they start their quick escape. The laughter she tried so hard to keep in finally erupted from her, her stomach already hurting from attempting to tame it down. Her forehead fell down on his shoulder, just as his palms snaked around her waist to keep her in place._

_Her laughter dies down and she moves back a little. He smiles at her, and that comfort, that feeling of being alive, of after laughter washed over her. And their eyes meet, a little too long for the both of them. For a pair of best friends. They were nearing uncharted territory, and they both knew it._

_Raquel could feel herself leaning in inch by inch. Sergio braced himself for the impact of whatever she (or they) will be doing in the next few seconds. If he pulled her a little bit closer, their lips would inevitably meet._

_But, she changed her mind last minute and moved his disheveled hair that fell to his forehead. She couldn’t do this to her, her boyfriend, nor Sergio. There was too much at stake._

_She pulled him up and led him to where they went in. “Let's go.”_

_Adrenaline soon came back as they plotted their escape. Luck was on their side as they were able to slip outside the backdoor without having to outrun any security personnel. The sound of the back door clicking was their reassurance of safety. They sprinted to the next block until the museum’s exterior was out of sight._

_When it was finally safe, Sergio broke the ice. “That's...”_

_Raquel continued for him. “The most fun you've had in ten years?”_

_“The most nerve-wracking thing I've done.” He corrected._

_Raquel flashed him a grin. “My job here is done, I guess.”_

_“Come on, let's get you home. I need to sleep all this extra adrenaline.”_

_“Okay, sloth.”_

_It was closer to Sergio’s dormitory than hers, but he insisted on walking her home. Too tired to put up a fight, she agreed. She snaked her fingers around his and pulled him to her dorm’s direction. If they were two average people, the sight of their hands together at this time of night would cause talk to arise. But with Raquel and Sergio, it has always been like this. Everyone around them just had to live with that fact._

_They stopped in front of her dorm’s building. “If you're ever going to plan a heist, don't hit me up, you adrenaline junkie.”_

_Raquel snorted. “I think you're just in denial that you had fun.”_

_He shrugged. “I still don't trust your concept of fun, but I think I did. Thanks.”_

_“Good night.” Raquel opened the door leading to their lobby. “Drink tea before you sleep to calm your nerves.”_

_Sergio nodded. “Sure.”_

_“Oh, and Sergio?” She looked back, fatigue finally creeping up on her. “Anytime.”_

“Sorry about that. They’ve always been that protective.” Raquel said as she secured the seatbelt in place in Sergio’s car.

“It’s good to see that they’re very protective of you.”

Raquel mused. “It’s something I never experienced with Laura.”

Her relationship with her sister never seemed to move past the aloofness they felt with each other. Not in high school, even if they went to the same institution, and more so in college where they went to two different universities. Raquel stayed in Madrid; Laura went to Valencia.

“Well, you did have me in high school and college scaring your boys off.” Sergio started to ride through the highway, looking at her every now and then as they engaged in conversation.

“You were pretty ineffective in college, though,” Raquel begged to disagree. “I thought you liked me back then, how come you never acted jealous?”

Knowing well that Raquel was still trying to get him to admit to his college “crush”, Sergio quickly steered them away from that topic. “I’m still not answering that. And I don’t do jealous.”

“I think you do. You just have a nice way of not showing it.”

Sergio looked at her, a questioning eyebrow raised up. “Are you implying that I was jealous of your ex-boyfriends?”

“No,” she firmly stated. “I’m just saying that you know how to tolerate it and control your emotions. In a generalized way.”

He laughed at her analysis, “whatever you say, psych nerd.”

Raquel rolled her eyes at the old nickname he had for her in college. “Sure, science freak.”

Half an hour later, Sergio stopped in front of her apartment. Raquel only needed to give him a look for him to know that she didn’t want to go, not yet at least. He drove to the complex’s parking area and found a shade to park the car in.

In her head, she was already formulating sentences and approaches how to tell him what was bugging her. It used to be easy, for her to open her mind to him, for her to cry on his shoulder, for her to lay down all her weapons and be her vulnerable self in front of him.

It took them ten minutes of comfortable silence before Raquel finally spoke up. “He sent me texts.”

Sergio looked alarmed. “What? Who?”

Raquel struggled to say his name. It was a word that always tasted vile in her tongue. “Alberto. That’s what happened last time.”

“What did he do?”

The woman reluctantly fished her phone from her handbag and scrolled through the damned messages she received over a week ago. The sight of it still made her chest tighten, but she quickly regained control over her senses. He reluctantly pried her phone from her hands and read through the string of texts.

Sergio’s grip on the steering wheel tightened, so much so that his knuckles started to pale. “That fucking bastard! He just can’t leave you alone, can’t he?”

“Look, it’s nothing.” Raquel bit her lip in anxiousness. Maybe she shouldn’t have pressed on the issue. “It doesn’t bother me anymore.”

“It doesn’t?” Sergio’s tone turned soft. “Raquel, you completely shut down.”

The woman retrieved her phone, feeling a lot better when the sound of her phone locking finally came. “I’m fine. Okay? I was tired that day. It just struck a nerve and memories flooded back.”

“Do you want to talk about it now?”

“I don't know.” She shrugged, but her voice found its way out of her mouth before she could stop it. “I was already home when he sent me these, you know? The last time I saw him it was in my apartment. He was trying to return the divorce papers I left in his place.” Raquel trailed off. Sergio looked at her with comfort, encouraging her to continue.

“It wasn't really a good memory, he tried to hit me a few times.” Raquel’s voice turned softer as if speaking it aloud was enough to cut the healing wounds and scars open. “Then, it just clouded my mind and I started to feel numb. That's why I came to you. God knows how I'd survive the night alone.”

He reached out to her hand, slowly. “I'm sorry.”

“There's nothing you could have done to stop him.”

“Still. I hope I was there with you.” She brushed her thumb over his knuckles a way to reassure him.

Sergio remained silent, however. His eyebrows are carefully sewn together, a tell when he’s deep in thought. “What’s wrong?” Raquel asked, almost reaching out to straighten the lines found on his forehead.

“Don’t mind me.”

Raquel urged him. She knew it was about her and her current situation. “Tell me.”

“It’s nothing,” Sergio stated. “If only I can keep an eye on you all the time to make sure he never does something like that again.”

Raquel smiled at his offer. “I’m not going to break at the slightest pressure, Sergio. I’m not fragile.”

And yet, the way he held her right now, it feels like she’s the most precious thing he was able to come by. “I know, but I just can’t sit here and do nothing. And see you like _that_.”

 _“That?”_ Raquel queried.

“I don’t want to see you hurting.”

“You don’t have to do anything, okay? This is my fight.”

“I know,” Sergio replied. “I'm not going to fight it for you, but I want to stay beside you when you do.”

“Okay.” Raquel settled.

“We could ask Monica’s firm.” He suggested.

“Not her firm. They don’t know.” She shook her rapidly. The thought of her opening up her past to a new lawyer and someone well acquainted with her already triggered her flight response. Reaching out to Monica’s firm, to her friends, would mean opening up the stitches she hid so well throughout the years. And frankly? She’s not ready for that yet.

“Okay,” he agreed. “We’ll figure something out. I’ll look into lawyers tomorrow to help you file a restraining order, then maybe file a case when you're ready.”

She leaned against him, shoulder to shoulder. Her temples touched his shoulder blades, and she felt him snuggle against her hair. “Thank you, Sergio.”

And like all the times he was there for her, she felt grateful. Raquel refused to acknowledge it, but she relied on Sergio. Not for her happiness, nor independence, but she simply would cease to exist—would cease to live—without him. It was as if it was always the two of them.

Sergio and Raquel. Raquel and Sergio.

He moved back and lifted her chin to meet her gaze. “You know that you’re my best friend, right?”

She nodded, understanding that those two words meant more than just _best friends_. It stretched for decades, far longer than any relationships and friendships they had with other people. It overlapped through labels, and lines, and everything that boxed them together and separately. But most of all, it blanketed through those three words that remained stuck in their tongues, hiding underneath years of denial.

Not that Raquel was already sure of what she was feeling. She still felt confused, lost, and dazed. She held back; in her mind, they were still playing pretend, and no matter what they say—or feel—to and about each other, it’s not real. She is being held back by decades of friendship—she would rather not have this at all if it meant losing him.

But then again, the lines and walls they carefully painted and built around each other, are now slowly breaking down, chip by chip, brick by brick. Of course, spending all your time with someone will inevitably cause confusion to both parties. Not to mention their newfound form of intimacy.

Despite all of that, Raquel felt uncertain where she stood with Sergio.

 _Love is weird._ For years, Raquel had made peace with the fact that “love” may not be for her. Raquel stopped believing in it after her doomed marriage with Alberto. She could see it, could feel traces of it, but she was uncertain if it was for her. If it was, then she was met with the unfortunate luck of not finding it. Maybe she did, but after years, and years, _and years_ of hiding and playing with fire, she was rendered unforgiven, and completely lost her chance.

But here, amid the comforts of his car, as they sit next to each other _only_ talking—a very mundane task if you asked her, Raquel reaches a point of epiphany. That if she were to give love another try, she could see herself doing it with Sergio.

He looked at her once again, the palm that nestled her cheek softly nudging her to look upward. “I can’t let anything hurt you.”

There was a strong sense of promise weaved in his sentence that she tried to forget, _willed herself to forget_ , the imminent heartbreak she knows she will face once this is all over. For now, she focuses on the present.

“Yeah. I know you won't.”


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I hope you didn't mind the two week wait for this chapter! I'm still on adjustment period for online classes, and it seems that schoolwork has only been piling up on top of one another. I still try to write during my free hours, and I was able to finish it earlier today. 
> 
> Anyway, thank you so much for your comments! I know you're probably growing tired of me saying this, but literally no words can express how grateful I am for all your love and support! 
> 
> Here's the 14th chapter of Behind Closed Doors! Enjoy!

_Friday, August 02, 2019_

Raquel, in her three (going four, but don’t remind her of that) decades of existence, she had almost always questioned the meaning of life. Not in a philosophical way, of course, she’d rather let Dewey and Hegel and other philosophers hurt their brain thinking of that. What she has been enlightened with, however, is that living isn’t the big, significant moments—it’s the small instances that make it. You don’t just live a happy life because you were happy at just one point in your life. You live a life of contentment and satisfaction because you were in constant elation. It is the summed-up memories of bliss which would conclude that you lived.

Not that Raquel has finally achieved that level of fulfillment, she’s still a far cry from it, but she would like to believe that she was getting there. She’s doing well career-wise—countless projects are being offered to her even as she’s filming her current movie. Then, she and her wine-addicted friends were finally able to meet (and drink) after months of unintentional abstinence from the beverage. Her relationship with Sergio was constantly changing. They still couldn’t put a finger on what they were, but hey, at least they were side-by-side, right?

And to her surprise, she was able to make friends despite the stressful and fast-paced environment of their set. A group of people who’d allow themselves to sit down and talk for a few minutes while they’re on break. God knows they’re already working too hard on this project.

“You should have seen the look on the actor’s face when the crane was pulling him up.” Lorenzo narrated, his face mirroring the expression of his subject while his hands mimicked the actions of a crane.

The only actress in the group of four dropped her jaw open. “Oh no.”

Lorenzo huffed. Then, his baritone voice roared in laughter. “Serves him right. One of the worst people I’ve worked with in the industry.”

Ingrid, one of the writers under Lorenzo’s team, agreed. “Nothing’s worse than someone whose head is shoved up in his ass.” All of them agreed—including Raquel who has experienced firsthand workmates who were nothing but a pain in the ass.

Not wanting to press further on the issue, they were professionals, after all, the head writer changed the subject. “How’s the screenplay going, Raquel? Are you now going for our jobs?”

“Not quite done, but when I get past my halfway mark, I’m letting you know so you have time to look for an alternative career.” The actress joked.

Raquel wrote in her free time. Which was not as frequent as she would like, but every once in a while, she’d be jotting down notes about the story and dialogues she’d want to include. When she does write, she asks Ingrid and Lorenzo to go through her script and check for formatting mistakes and the like. So far? No major changes. She feels like a writer whose work wasn’t scrapped away by her publisher.

Ingrid butted in. “But with the draft you’ve shown us, I bet I’m going homeless in a few months.”

The actress dared not to believe them. “You’re just saying that to be nice.”

The head writer nodded vigorously. “Yes, we are.”

“What an ass!” Raquel snorted, and they fell into fits of laughter.

Clara, the second assistant director, paid her a compliment. “I think you’re very talented. Talia said you’re really good. And you’ve been in the industry for how many years?”

Raquel shrugged and counted on top of her head. “I don’t keep count. 9? 8 years?”

“And you’ve already landed a really huge role,” Clara mused. It wasn’t a deprecating statement, but one that manifested awe and astonishment. Most of the people in the production has been in the industry for longer than Raquel has. Sometimes, it eats her alive, knowing that the only reason she was here was that sheer luck was on her side. And yet, she proves time and time again, that Raquel deserves every award and recognition she has acquired over the years.

“I do hope this is an international break for me, and for all of us,” Raquel thought out loud. “I trust Talia that she’s going to deliver.”

Ingrid looked up from her notes and pointed her pen at Raquel. “You, ma’am, are also going to deliver.”

A small clearing of a throat made the presence of a security personnel known. “Excuse, Ms. Murillo, someone is asking for you outside.”

It wasn’t unusual for Raquel to receive requests to see them. Sometimes it’s her friends, sometimes it’s a distant family. Often time, it’s her fans. “May I ask what their name was?”

“Sergio Marquina.” The personnel replied.

“Oh. Thank you. I’ll be there in a moment.” Raquel hid her surprise well. She wasn’t expecting Sergio to visit her at work, not when he’s also supposed to be drowning in paperwork. “I guess I have a visitor to tend to?” She turned to her friends as she gathered her belongings and stuffed them in a bag.

“Don’t mind us here, don’t keep your man waiting.” The group gave her a thumbs up, with Ingrid grinning mischievously at her, Lorenzo wiggling his eyebrows in mockery, and Clara giving her a warm, sweet smile.

Raquel took it as her cue and went to the set’s entrance. “In this case, I thank you for your time, ladies and gent.”

It was a short two-minute walk to get from the tent to the entrance. In the two minutes that she has spent getting to Sergio, her thoughts wandered off to the man and how she missed him. They didn’t see each other as much as they’d like to, both of their careers pulling them farther away from each other every passing day. But they try to make do. A phone call every now and then, texts in the morning and before they slept, and now, work visits. Raquel sank her front teeth on her bottom lip to keep her smile from spreading.

“Hi.” Sergio greeted once she was in earshot.

“Hey!” Raquel gave him an affectionate hug and pulled his hand to lead him to her trailer. “What are you doing here?”

“Am I not allowed to surprise my fiancée?”

Raquel stopped to roll her eyes at him. She stole the paper bag from his hands. Technically, it’s not stealing if you know that it’s yours. “It depends on what’s inside that little bag of yours. Because I swear to God, if that’s another salad I will—” Ah. _Cheeseburger and fries_. “Okay, you win. Welcome to the set of Three Lives Left, Mr. Marquina.” She extended her hands and acted like she was an usherette in a theatre.

“This looks wonderful and such, but I am more interested in seeing the trailer of Ms. Raquel Murillo?” He walked near her and lowered his voice. “I hear she’s a big star in the film.”

“Don’t you think you’re moving a little too fast, Mr. Marquina? I’m not sure she’s accepting visitors at the moment.” She took a right turn which led them to the casts’ trailers. Eight of the kind was parked next to each other, the third one being hers.

“Oh, she’s not? That’s unfortunate.”

Raquel slid the door open and pulled Sergio inside, slamming the metal door shut. The actress dropped the paper bag on the couch and wrapped her now free hands on his neck. A mischievous and provocative smile was the last thing he saw before she tiptoed and pressed her lips to his.

Sergio’s hands landed on her back and in her hair, his fingers playing with the curls, and yet not quite so, not wanting to ruin the work of her stylists. He pulled her closer to him, and deepened the kiss, his tongue already asking, _begging_ ¸ for entrance. A small, silent moan escaped her lips. Thoughts subside as she is gradually engulfed in his kiss, in his touch, in his low grunts, which surely did something to her center.

 _God, she missed that feeling_. It never failed to amaze Raquel how Sergio unravels her—physically and emotionally.

Raquel was the first to pull away, her breathlessness finally catching up to her. “How’s that for unfortunate?”

“Can you maybe do that again or am I pushing my luck?”

Raquel fixed his tie and wiped off the dark red smudge on the corner of his lips created by the actress’ lipstick. She moved back a little to witness her newest creation—a disheveled post-make out Sergio. “I don’t normally kiss my visitors. I am a professional, Mr. Marquina.”

Sergio was still catching his breath as well. “No doubt that you are.”

The actress walked over to the make-up area with Sergio trailing behind her. It seems that he wasn’t the only one dismantled by that kiss earlier. She looked like the same wreck he is now. He wraps his arms around her from behind, his palms warmly rested on her stomach. Raquel catches his darkened eyes through the mirror, his gaze never leaving hers as he pulls down her blazer, exposing the skin on her shoulder. He places his lips on them, trailing kisses until he reaches the crook of her neck.

She’s found breathless once again as she tips her head to the side, giving him better access. “Why are you really here?”

He placed a final kiss on her skin and replied. “As I said, am I not allowed to miss you?”

“You are.” She turned around in his arms and was content to stay there. “I’m just suspicious.”

Sergio shrugged and gave him a lopsided grin.

“I miss you too, you know. I feel like I’ve been drowning in all my projects these past weeks I barely have time to see you.” Raquel admitted.

“It’s alright, it’s not like I didn’t just take on extra paperwork so I can distract myself from thinking about why we can’t go out on the weekends.”

She led them to the couch and finally opened the contents of the paper bag. Probably the best thing in life as of the moment, next to, of course, what she and Sergio did earlier. “You are a sap. And a liar too. They gave you that extra paperwork even if you did not ask them to.”

“Well, your boyf—fiancé is the best department chair they’ve had in years. I couldn’t say no.”

Raquel shook her head in disbelief. Sergio doesn’t know how to say no, or when his skills are being taken advantage of. “Take a rest.”

“What do you think I’m doing now?”

“Take a day off, I mean.” Raquel clarified.

“I could say the same to you.”

The actress smiled at the professor. “We just don’t know when to stop, huh?”

Sergio stole a french fry from Raquel which resulted in a slap on his hand. He ignored her ad stole three more. “How about after this fiasco, we go somewhere, just the two of us? We could stay for a weekend at a private beach house. Or we could go backpacking, whichever you prefer.”

Suddenly, her growing annoyance with the thief in front of her subsided. “Are you asking me out on a date, Mr. Marquina?”

“I’m actually hoping for something more, Ms. Murillo.”

“Backpacking is too risky for me. How about we take your car and drive somewhere in the country. Then to the beach?” She suggested, already imagining how many bags she’ll have to pack for the trip.

“Of course. As long as I get to pick the music.”

“No Chopin and his nocturnes.” Raquel exasperated. “Please.”

He faked a huff. “I assume no Schumann as well?” Raquel straightened her posture, placed her hands on her hips, and firmly shook her head no.

“And when is this fiasco going to end?”

He queried. “When is your filming schedule the least hectic?”

Raquel moved to get a better view of the call sheet posted on the wall. “We’re flying to Moscow in three weeks. We’re staying for a few weeks then we’re allowed to take some time off before resumption.”

“Then we’ll go after that. I also have to be somewhere when you’re in Russia.”

“Where to?”

“Another conference with my colleagues,” Sergio explained. Nothing new, then. “In Oxford.”

Now that’s news. Sergio has been talking about wanting to present his dissertations in Oxford, but he’s never been invited before. “That’s good! How long are you staying?”

“Five days. I’ll leave Icarus with the neighbors again.”

“I’m sure that little boy wouldn’t mind. Just bring chocolates and a generous tip for him when you get home.” Raquel aired her suggestion. “The little boy, I mean. Not Icarus.”

“There’s also something,” he trailed off. Raquel looked at him with curious eyes, gesturing him to go on. “Leila will be with us at the conference. I was paired with her for the research we’re conducting for the event. I know you don’t like her that much—”

“Hey, it’s okay.” Raquel cut him off with a smile and a palm on his forearm. “I trust you.”

“Then it’s settled. After all of that, a weekend; just you and me.”

Raquel bit her lip to hide the fact that she was already imagining how that weekend will be. She was certain that their hotel reservations would _definitely_ be taken advantage of. “You really are spoiling me rotten, Sergio.”

The two spent the next hour napping next to each other; okay, not napping— _cuddling_ , both trying to fit in the small leather couch in Raquel’s trailer. Sergio, however, had to return to work. He said something about his work magically piling up if he leaves his office for more than two hours. So, despite Raquel’s soft, pleading gaze on him, Sergio pushed himself up from the couch.

The actress, not wanting to part just yet, offered to walk him back to the entrance. The two-minute walk would feel short, but they’d have to make do.

A knock on her trailer door was heard just as they were about to set foot outside. Raquel slid the door open to reveal Lorenzo waiting outside. “We just came from a meet with the head producer, and she said the production will be going out for drinks later. Should I tell them you’re going?”

“Of course,” Raquel replied. She looked at the man beside her, who was looking quite curious— _jaded?_ —at the interaction. “Lorenzo, Sergio. Sergio, Lorenzo. He’s our head writer and producer. He’s helping me with the screenplay I talked to you about.”

The head writer extended his right hand to Sergio. “Nice to meet you.”

“Likewise.” Sergio returned the handshake.

Lorenzo nodded at the professor as he regressed his arm. He turned to Raquel. “Hey, I have to go, but we’ll see you later, right? I promise to return the umbrella.” He lifted his right arm and dipped his head as a sign of promise.

Raquel laughed. “You better, that was long overdue.” Lorenzo took it as his cue to leave, waving goodbye as he moved further away from the trailer.

The two started walking toward the gates as well. Sergio waited until the writer was out of sight before he spoke. “He seems like a nice guy.”

“He is,” Raquel talked highly of him. “He’s one of the few good friends I’ve made here. Not everyone’s willing to sit down and talk with the actors here. They’re either too busy or too intimidated.”

“I guess he’s neither?”

“Nope. He even offered to help me with my script. It’s about a quarter done.”

Not knowing what to say, Sergio settled on two words. “That’s good.”

“He’s really been helpful. It’s nice to talk to someone that’s not within my circle of five friends.” The two remained silent after that. What used to be a two-minute walk felt longer.

Sergio stopped just before they reached the gates. From a distance, a group of girls can be seen. Probably her co-actors' fanbase. “I’ll see you soon?” He asked, his hand reaching hers.

“Sure. I’ll be fetching Icarus on the weekend anyway.”

Sergio smiled and dipped his head down, but Raquel moved backward. “Not here? I just… don’t want to see my face on the tabloids tomorrow morning.”

Raquel internally cringed as she realized her action. Her only hope was that he wasn’t offended. If Sergio did, he did a good job of hiding it. “Of course. Have fun later, okay?”

“I will.” The actress settled by placing her lips on his cheek. She remained in her place until she saw him flag down a cab and enter the vehicle.

* * *

_There wasn’t much that Raquel missed in the police force. She didn’t miss the misogynistic remarks she used to hear every day. She didn’t miss the way she had to always pull up a strong, emotionless façade just for her male workmates to take her seriously. She definitely did not miss the paperwork they pile up on her desk. The former sub-inspector could still hear the loud voice of her superior: “Tomorrow. Papers on my desk. Before lunch.”_

_But what Raquel did miss was the combat boots she wore to work as part of her uniform when she was still a police officer. It was a far cry from the four-inch heels she wore under her deep green evening gown. Her heels are begging for mercy. She had to endure the pain all night, and unfortunately, it was only 6 PM._ Great. Just four more hours to go.

_It was the premiere night of her first full-length film. Her first film, to be more specific. Raquel wanted nothing more than to be nervous, but the pain on her goddamn feet prevented her from doing so._

_The rising actress was situated at the end of the red carpet, eagerly waiting for her fellow castmates to walk down the sea of photographers and media personnel._

_“Do you have a minute for an interview, Ms. Murillo?” A familiar voice caught her attention. Raquel refused to glance, but her curiosity got the better of her._

_She was right. “Sergio,” Raquel said a little breathlessly._

_“Hi,” Sergio settled. “How are you?”_

_“I’m doing well. Surprisingly.” Well enough for someone who grew tired of reaching out to someone who clearly refuses to be helped. “What are you doing here?”_

_“Fake media pass.” He held up a laminated ID. Then, he leaned a little closer. “This premiere has low security, it seems.” She nodded, her interest in Sergio has long since passed._

_The actress turned to her side to see that her castmates were getting together. Despite her disinterest, she knew she needed this closure from him. “Can we talk later? After the premiere?”_

_His face lit up, to her surprise. “Of course.”_

_As she started to walk away, he called her attention once again, avoiding any physical contact that may spark a dent in her rising reputation. “Raquel?” She turned back at him, leaving him breathless with the sight of her. “I’m proud of you.”_

_Then, she gave him her first non-hostile remark of the day. She smiled at him._

_It was the first time she was able to watch their film on screen and in its full glory, but the actress couldn’t seem to focus on the story. Her thoughts kept flying to the person she least expected to see. Truth be told, she didn’t expect to see him anymore. Not after their little shouting match in his place in Barcelona._

_She couldn’t even fathom what he would be saying to her. Would he apologize? Or would he finally man up and tell her that she doesn’t fit his life anymore? The actress tried to think of other reasons why he showed up today, but she’s only brought back to one place. To when his pitying gaze landed on her as he apologized that he’s choosing his girlfriend over her. To when Raquel couldn’t even meet his eyes due to the humiliation she felt as she overstepped the boundaries she didn’t even know he set between them._

_All members of the cast and creatives were called on stage, the deafening applause of the audience motivating the production further. She only wished she could feel the same enthusiasm as the people before her felt. On stage, she only looked for the familiar pair of eyes under black-rimmed glasses. There he was, at the fifth row, left side, standing and applauding as most of the audience did._

_“Can we go somewhere private?” Raquel went to Sergio the moment the lights inside the cinema were turned on. She wasted no time confronting the very thing that ate at her insides the whole night. He nodded, and she led them to an elevator which led to the last floor of the building. The ride in the enclosed space was silent. If the tension between them could only cut, they would be donning scars of various lengths and depths._

_The two stepped out of the elevator, then walked to another flight of stairs. Her feet were killing her, but her mind finally numbed enough for her not to feel any physical pain anymore. Raquel pushed the large metal door open. The plain, Madrid night sky greeted them._

_Sergio followed her silently. “Don’t you have an after-party to go to?”_

_The actress shook her head. “We already had drinks on our last day. That can wait.”_

_“And this can’t?”_

_Her patience was already drawing thin. The pent-up anger that has been simmering in her for a year is being opened once again. “Sergio, what are you really doing here? Aren’t you supposed to be playing house with your girlfriend?”_

_“I came here alone.”_

_“That’s pretty obvious.”_

_“I broke up with Leila.”_

_“I’m sorry, but did you want a pity party?” Her tone was vile._

_Sergio continued, ignoring her previous remark. “I know you didn’t like her, but I really did love her. She was with me—"_

_Raquel cut him off before the words escaped his mouth. It hurt less when it came from her than it would be from him. “When I couldn’t be there for you. I get it. You told me that a few months ago.”_

_He was rendered silent. Instead, he moves on to a different subject. “I—I moved back last month. I’m sorry I didn’t call”_

_“I remember you not calling for months when you moved to Yale too.” Raquel didn’t even stop to acknowledge the apology he muttered as she continued to lament. “You weren’t even going to tell me how you were before I called you.”_

_“I’m so—"_

_“Stop apologizing, Sergio.” Raquel snapped. “What the fuck is it that you want?”_

_He stepped back, “Why are you so mad?”_

_“Maybe before you ask me why I’m so indifferent, you should recall why the fuck you pushed me away in the first place!” Whatever was holding Raquel back earlier has dissipated along with the little patience she had for him._

_“You pushed me away and I didn’t know why.” Her tone turned softer. “Look, I understand if you don’t want me in your life anymore, but I at least deserve an explanation of why you did it._

_So, stop telling me that your girlfriend was there for you when I couldn’t, because you couldn’t let me in in the first place! I knocked, Sergio. You wouldn’t answer. Stop pinning this on me.”_

_Sergio jumped in to defend himself. “I’m not pinning—"_

_“Then what?” The softness in her tone is now nowhere to be found. Maybe she’ll regret making this another of their vicious screaming matches, but she had to let her thoughts out. A year has been too long._

_“Because for the past year, I’ve been trying to reach out to you. You said Yale and Avila won’t change us, and yet, here we are. I’m done. We’re done here.” She looked at him, an unfamiliar gaze present in her eyes. A mixture of anger, sadness, and everything in between, it seems._

_She turned her heels from him, but he grabbed her right hand, a jolt of electricity coursing through them. If he did this a year ago, they wouldn’t be here. “No,” he tugged her hand, pulling her closer. “Are you really leaving without letting me explain?”_

_Raquel pried his hand off her. “Then get to the fucking point!”_

_“I came here to apologize.” He said, his hands were deep in his pocket, still searching for the confidence to speak. “For everything. For keeping you out. For letting you walk away. For pinning this on you.”_

_Her tone remained firm and cold. “Why?”_

_“I... I thought you didn’t want me in your life.” He started; his first sentence already breaking her walls. “When I came back from the States, the only person I wanted to come home to was you. And yet, you’ve already established your life while mine was still starting. You were close to being engaged. You already had a good standing in the police force. You were happy. You didn’t need me tagging along._

_I depended on you my whole life... and I knew I had to start somewhere.”_

_“Then why pin this on me? Am I not allowed to be happy?” Her marble stone stance started to falter. Tears stung in her eyes as she questioned him._ She deserved to be happy, right?

_“You deserve everything, Raquel. And I, I can’t give you that.”_

_Raquel shook her head in disbelief. He wasn’t lying, but she knew that he was still holding back the whole truth from her. “Why couldn’t you let me in? Please let me in.”_

_“I’m sorry.”_

_“And now?”_

_“What “now”?”_

_Her voice came out small. If the reason he left was what she thought it was, it had to be from him. “Why did you come back?”_

_“I told you. I broke up with her.”_

_“No. That’s not the reason. What is it?” She urged him._

_“Raquel.” There was a finality in his voice. He wasn’t ready to let her in._

_“Sergio, I don’t have all night.”_

_It took him almost half a minute before he spoke. “Because a life without you is not worth living. I realize that maybe we don’t fit in each other’s lives anymore, but I’m not going away without a fight. And I apologize, truly. I’m sorry for hurting you, Raquel.”_

_The actress couldn’t stop the tears from her eyes now. In a matter of minutes, he had successfully broken her walls down. And now, the dam has been broken. “You really thought that I’d function without you? Did you know how much of a train wreck I was the whole year?”_

_“Come here.” He wrapped her in his arms for the first time in months. She was settled on his chest, the dark material of his shirt catching her tears._

_“Sorry for snapping at you.”_

_Sergio disregarded her apology. “None of this is your fault.”_

_“You do realize that this is going to take more than an apology, right?”_

_“A Chanel bag? Already on it.”_

_“Show off.” She moved backward to meet his eyes. “Sergio? I missed you.”_

_“I missed you too.”_

* * *

The strobing lights of the nightclub they were in met Raquel’s hazelnut eyes, causing flares in her vision. Teal. Red. Pink. Then back to teal, red, and pink, once again. It was their second bar for the night. The production team started in a restaurant and was satisfied with the cocktails they ordered. Not until Ingrid declared that she needed something stronger. Clearly, she wasn’t talking about the drinks.

So that’s how they found themselves in a bar an hour away from the studio, with Ingrid dancing the night away to the disc jockey’s beats, Lorenzo drinking all the Tequila shots he could take in in twenty minutes, Clara in the booth they reserved, doing more work, as usual, and Raquel mindlessly staring at the strobing lights in front of her. She just didn’t have the energy to move around like Ingrid.

Raquel called the attention of the server who just passed by their booth. “Hi. Can I get another refill?” The boy took her glass and moved along, taking in mind Raquel’s table number.

Clara took a sip from her second glass of Appletini. “You do know that has high alcohol content, right?”

“Yep! And I’m officially tipsy!” Raquel chirped. “Did you know that I can still recite the oath we took in the Academy? I may not seem like it, but I’m really smart.”

The younger woman beside her nodded. “You are, Raquel.”

“Okay. Have you seen my phone?”

Then, a sweaty Ingrid comes in full view, her long hair sticking to her exposed back and shoulders. “It’s here with me.” The writer fished her phone from the purse she left in Clara and Lorenzo’s care.

“Thank you. You look pretty today. You should wear that more often.” Raquel paid her friend a compliment.

Ingrid snorted. “You’re drunk.”

The Accused shook her head no. A little too defensively, it seems. “Nope. Just tipsy.”

“Drunk,” Ingrid repeated, but Raquel made no further comment.

The actress grew bored the longer she waited for her Long Island to arrive. Her waiting came to an end a few minutes later, but she has already texted someone in order to distract herself.

 **“Hi, Monica! How are youuuu?”** Raquel carefully typed, ensuring that the receiver won’t be suspicious of her very not sober state. The inebriated actress wasn’t even sure if it was Monica she was talking to. She replaced her phone and number the week before in an act to prevent Alberto from reaching out to her again. So far, she only has 6 contacts, which were all still unsaved. She hopes she at least picks the right one.

 **“Are you drunk?”** The text said.

 **“No, but I forgot long island has high alcohol content.”** _Thank God for auto-correct_. When her friend did not reply, she texted once more. **“You know what??? I’m drinking to forget.”**

Her phone lit up again with a notification. **“Forget what?”**

 **“I’m confused with him.”** She texted back.

This time, however, the reply came a bit faster. **“Who?”**

**“You know who. He’s really sweet and makes me feel safe and he’s everything at once.”**

When they didn’t reply, she added, **“these past weeks he’s really been helpful too.”**

**“Why are you confused, then?”**

**“I think I might be falling but idk if he feels the same way,”** Raquel replied, a sigh escaping her lips as she hit send. It feels good to finally let it out. She’s always been defensive of her emotions, always playing the “I’m confused” card as an escape route from her friends’ tireless interrogation.

Maybe it’s time for her to admit that she has finally come to a point of clarity and that it was clear that she is now feeling, _falling_ , for Sergio. The intensity of how much she wants him scares her.

It’s funny how their situation was the thing that brought them closer, but is also the one thing that keeps them apart. Raquel didn’t want their pretense to become the foundation of their relationship. Both Sergio and her deserved more than that. She said before that she’d want to try with him, but now? God, it would _kill_ her if they didn’t. Not now, maybe, but when the circumstances are finally right.

It scares her how easy it was to admit to herself of how Sergio means to her. Not that she’d allow him on this realization anytime soon. It was a little secret she’d want to hold on to a little longer.

A new white text bubble appeared at the bottom of her screen. **“Does he make you happy?”**

 **“He does.”** And they didn’t reply once more.

 **“Can you fetch me?”** Raquel texted back a few minutes later. Fatigue from the previous shoot already caught up to her, her eyes already drooping low, rendering her vision blurry on top of her being drunk.

**“What bar are you in?”**

She suppressed a yawn before replying. **“Caught Redhanded.”**

**“Drink water while waiting for me.”**

Raquel did as she was told. She pushed herself away from her seat and started walking toward the bar. Her head throbbed as she did, and the lights of the club were not helping her at all. If it was because of the four glasses of Long Island or the fatigue she felt causing her headache, she didn’t know. Maybe it was both.

Raquel dropped all her weight on a stool as she ordered a glass of water. She turned to her left to see Lorenzo still sober and steady. At that moment, she envied his high alcohol tolerance. She was too, she just—drank a little too much tonight.

Lorenzo offered to walk back with her to their booth, knowing Raquel’s prominence and the abundance of aggressors in places like this. Clara and the black material of her purse were finally in her line of sight when her ankle decided that it was the perfect time to pull off a sprain. Her four-inch high heels did not do anything to alleviate the pain. At best, it worsened the impact of the sprain.

The actress almost toppled over, but Lorenzo caught her just in time. “Hey, your chauffeur is here.”

_Sergio._

It was as if a bucket of boiling water was dropped on her, followed by another bucket of ice. Reality hit her hard as she realized that it wasn’t Monica who she was texting all night. It wasn’t Monica to whom she just admitted she was already falling for him. She might have accidentally confessed; and her only prayer was that he was as oblivious as she knew him to be.

“Sergio! Hi!” Raquel awkwardly greeted; the look on his face unreadable. He knows, then.

_She was fucked._


	15. Chapter 15

_Saturday, August 03, 2019_

Legend says that before you take your very last breath, you will either hear the angels sing symphonies of heaven, further ascending your soul to the gates of Elysium, or hear the grating dissonance of inferno, the sound of your demise will be the very thing that will haunt you for eternity. Raquel is neither dying nor going to hell, but she might as well be. The very sound that’s dragging her down is the screeching noise of an alarm clock, drumming in her ear. If she were, to be honest, it sounded more of a Mandrake’s cry more than its infamous repetitive ring.

Truth be told, the only thing Raquel wants to do is to pull the covers over her head and seek shelter under it for the next few days—weeks maybe. Depending on how long before this feeling of shame subsides. Aside from the throbbing headache brought by that cursed Long Island Iced Tea she gracefully sipped the night before, and the striking pain centered on her right ankle, the embarrassment from her unplanned, inebriated confession made her want to seek isolation; dig her own grave even.

To make matters worse, what greeted her sight was far from the usual blue curtains of the master’s bedroom in her apartment. It wasn’t a foreign place, not really. It was very familiar, much to her disdain. Given her situation, she would rather wake up naked with a stranger beside her than to see a face she was well acquainted with when she steps outside.

Raquel heaved a sigh as she propped herself up to silence the alarm clock on the bedside table. The faster she gets out of this place, the better. “Fuck.” She hissed as the sprained ankle grazed on the sheets.

Carefully, she dragged herself to the other side of the bed, her short arm stretching out to the screeching device. Her palms determinedly hit the snooze button and peaceful silence filled the room. Raquel, despite her immobility, moved from the bed to start preparing for her eventual escape.

It seemed that Sergio heard the commotion in his bedroom and hurriedly arrived, surprised to see Raquel trying to stand up, her weight being shifted to one side as she leaned on the bedside table for support.

“Don't put pressure on your foot.” He warned, rushing to her side to guide her back on the bed.

Raquel slightly flinched as his touch burned her skin. “Right. Sorry.” The mattress sank slightly as she sat on it, her gesture clearly avoiding him. Sergio, however, didn’t notice. If he ever did, he didn’t seem to mind.

“Do you want toast?” Sergio offered.

“No, thank you.”

He nodded and pointed to the items on the bedside table. “There's aspirin and water if you need one.”

“Thank you.” Raquel eyed the glass and pill as if it wasn’t there earlier. She reluctantly popped the tablet in her mouth and drowned it with the glass of water. She glanced down at her shirt, noting that her pants were discarded, and her shirt was of a different size and color. “Did you change me into—?”

Sergio shook his head no. “You were in your previous clothes before I left you here.”

“So, you slept—"

“On the couch.” He continued for her.

“Okay.” For some reason, Raquel felt—hurt? Offended, even. It was the first time he slept on the couch since they pretended to be together. Even before their lines were blurred, the concept of personal space was always intruded. “Why didn't you bring me straight to my place?”

“You were drunk.” He said matter-of-factly.

“Yes, and?”

“You'd wake up with a hangover.” He clarified. Her right brow lifted, telling him that she already knew that would happen to her. He sighed and faced her. “I didn't want you to wake up feeling sick.”

“I still did though,” Raquel replied. “Do you have work?”

“No. do you?”

She shook her head no. “I have the weekend off.”

He nodded. A tell that he was done with the conversation. “Okay. That's good. You need to rest.” Sergio stood from the bed and started to walk out of the bedroom. Not to exaggerate the action, but Raquel received an epiphany of some sort. A vision of him walking away from her.

“Sergio...”

She called him out. If it was to stop the vivid image in her mind or to halt him from leaving her alone, even as she felt the need to escape in the first place, she did not know anymore.

“Call me when you need to go outside, I’ll help you walk.” He looked back for the final time, his expression an unfamiliar one, then closed the door.

Raquel was left with the danger of her own thoughts. She didn’t know what was more lethal: the uncomfortable silence she previously experienced with Sergio, or her being alone with her own mind.

The actress searched for her black purse in the room, hoping that it was in sight. Thankfully, it was. Her phone served as her solace as of the moment. The heartwarming comments from her fans brought the comfort that she looked for. Scrolling through her posts on her social media, she only now noticed the sudden abundance of photos with Sergio. Her heart leapt at the support her friends and fans give the two of them. It scares her to think of the consequences when, not if, they find out the nature of their relationship (or how the two came to be), but she’s more terrified of her current situation to even spend another second pondering on what the future might bring.

And if he is not in the frame, it at least had something to do with him. The ring. Icarus. The food on their dates. The places Sergio brought her to for the past months. They had come so far, and Raquel used to be certain on how they stood with each other. After what she had accidentally told him, she thought he would be livid, or at the very least polite with her, but with their little interaction earlier she couldn’t help but feel frustrated at how nonchalant and hostile he acted around her.

_It confused the fuck out of her._

She tried to think of what happened after he fetched her from the nightclub yesterday. The actress could only remember bits and pieces, no thanks to the alcohol she enjoyed sipping on the night before. Her thoughts fled to how he carried her from the bar to his Porsche, then from his car to his bedroom in the apartment.

Raquel reckoned she was asleep the whole ride, only to be woken up when they arrived at Sergio’s complex. She could remember him placing the pair of shorts and his old college shirt for her to change into at the side of the bed, and yet her mind remained blank when she tried to think of anything she did or say that would upset him. 

At this point, Raquel did not know if she wanted to stay in his bedroom or leave his place, ensuring a 2-kilometer radius between them. One thing was clear, though. She’d avoid him until he knows how to properly address the matter at hand. Since her injury rendered her immobile, she had to camp in her current whereabouts.

So, that’s where she stayed. A person at rest remains at rest, save for an external force compelling them to change their state. That is until her pride was overpowered by the growling sound of her stomach. Not wanting to call out for help, Raquel slowly walked from the bed to the door, her hands touching on whatever sturdy item was close to support her weight. She winced in pain every now and then, and by the time she reached her destination, Raquel was already drained.

Sergio looked from behind him, surprised to see a limping Raquel nearing the kitchen. He rushed to her side and supported her. “Why didn’t you call me?”

Raquel huffed. “It’s only a sprain, Sergio.”

“Which could worsen if you walk around while it’s healing.” He reprimanded her.

“It’s fine.” As her hands reached the engraved texture of the dining chair, she quickly sat down, terrified that of his touch lingers a second more, it would leave scars and burn marks on her skin. One that would take years to scrape off. One that might even be permanent.

Sergio moved back to his cooking, not giving her a second look. “Okay.”

The actress looked intently at the professor. For someone who had mastered the art of communicating ideas and concepts, he was terrible at expressing his emotions. His walls, always guarded. Feeling the icy tension permeate through the air, she started to talk, already breaking her promise of avoiding him. “So, how was work?”

“Going great.” He looked back at her and passed her a plate of pancakes.

Raquel nodded. “And your research?

“Good as well.”

“Okay. I’m glad.” She replied, her eyes burning through the plate before her. Raquel started once again, hoping to pull him out of his three-word sentence mood. “We have the weekend off because we’re filming the major scenes next week then we’re off to Moscow.”

Sergio’s answer was nothing more than a gaze, and her mouth already spoke the words before she could stop herself. 

“Maybe we can spend time together before I fly out?”

“If you want to, sure.” Five words. Improving, then.

He closed off from the conversation and returned to his previous point of interest. It wasn’t until a few minutes later when he finally spoke up. “Do you want to change your bandage?” He pointed to her ankle.

Raquel shrugged. “If you don’t mind.”

“I wouldn’t offer if I did.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.” He echoed.

Sergio supported her as she made her small walk from the dining area to the couch in his living room. He offered to ease her burden by carrying her, but she shied away from his assistance, content with being her guard as she moved on her own.

He placed her right leg on his lap, carefully unwrapping the bandage he put just before she left her to change into his clothes. She hissed every time pressure is put on her ankle, already dreading the day she had to shoot her action scenes in the upcoming days. The actress would be dead meat if the production was slowed down due to her accident.

Sergio paid no attention to her flinches and curses as he gently wrapped her foot with the beige material of the bandage. She observed him as he focused on his task, his eyebrows furrowing in concentration. When he finished, she shifted her position to draw herself nearer to him, his legs trapped under her own.

“You're quiet today. what's wrong?” She finally voiced out her anxiety, the quicker this band-aid is ripped off, the faster the pain will go away.

“Nothing.”

She pointed out. “It’s not nothing.”

Sergio heaved a sigh. “It’s not a big deal, Raquel. Let it go.”

But she couldn’t.

“It's about last night, isn't it?” When his answer was found to be in the form of an agonizing stare, she knew that it was. Raquel knew to prepare herself for the worst.

“Talk to me, Sergio,” She urged— _begged—_ him. “Is it?”

“Yes.”

Being an actress required you to have the skill of improvisation. Of knowing how to act in a certain situation unprecedented, but nothing prepared her for this. She knew they’d have to end this soon, but the thought of the _talk_ never once grazed her mind. “Look, I—"

He cut her off, the bricks holding him guard slowly being cracked at the seams. “Let me explain first.”

“Okay.”

“I know that what we are is for show,” He eased. The way the words fell from his lips infuriated her. It was too slow, and all she wanted was to get this over with. “And we are bound to fall out of this sooner or later, but I respect your choice and if you want to end this now, it's alright with me.”

 _What?_ This was not what she expected at all.

And then, _just then_ , did she finally realize what he was silent for. What his unfamiliar gaze was about.

A small laugh bubbled from her, catching Sergio off guard. “You thought I was pertaining to someone else.” It wasn’t a question. It was a statement. “For someone so smart, you could be ridiculously oblivious.”

“What?” He echoed her thoughts. It was his turn to be confused.

“You’re jealous.” She teased him, her teeth sinking on her bottom lip to suppress the laughter that threatened to erupt from her. How he even thought that there was somebody else was beyond her.

“I’m not.” He defended himself. It seemed that even he didn’t know that he felt jaded. And only when she aired it out was it confirmed.

“You are.” She rebutted, willing him to give in.

When he didn’t, her tone shifted. To something low. To something soft. To something only he would hear. “You have no idea what you do to me, don’t you?”

Raquel placed her palm on his cheeks, lovingly caressing the familiar feel of his beard. Her gaze softened as she looked at him, hoping that her next move was enough to make him understand what words can’t.

 _She kissed him._ And if he still did not know what that meant, that’s on him.

 _He kissed her back_ , with the same intensity, same fervor, pouring himself onto her. What he cannot profess, his touch will suffice. And if she still found herself confused, that’s on her.

* * *

_Raquel winced at the sensation of the carbonated drink shoving down her throat. She would have accepted the defeat of her tastebuds if the beverage in her glass was champagne, but her mother insisted on ordering non-alcoholic wine for their small New Year’s Eve celebration. Thankfully, Andres brought in a bottle of wine earlier. She’d sneak in after midnight for a glass or two._

_“Can you reach the casserole over the cupboard?” Her mother called her over as she stared outside the window, her face illuminated by the occasional fireworks in the sky._

_Raquel placed her glass on top of the counter and grabbed a stool to reach her destination. “Which one?”_

_“The one with the red flowers.” The older woman replied. Raquel combed through the dark storage area and grabbed the glassware which matched her mother’s description. “Careful! That’s worth a lot.”_

_“A lot?” She mockingly spat. “You used to ground me whenever I broke one of your chinas.”_

_Her mother laughed at the accusation. “That’s quite a reach, honey.”_

_“Mama,” the younger woman exasperated. “A month. You used to ground me for a month.”_

_“Nonsense,” the incumbent executive chef waved her off. “Hurry, we only have a few minutes left before midnight.”_

_8 minutes, she checked her wristwatch. “Why didn’t you do it earlier?”_

_The older woman seemed to be out of her mind for a second before shrugging. “It slipped my mind.” She then returned to the stove, earnestly stirring the pot to quicken the cooking time._

_Raquel patiently waited for her mother to ask for the kitchenware she asked for earlier. Like a little child waiting for the pastries to finish baking in the oven, the not-so-young woman eyed the savory dish with a watery mouth. It was like she can already taste it._

_Just before her stomach begged her for a taste, her mother reached her calloused hand out. “Thank you.” A soft look was pasted on her face as she pats her daughter’s cheek._

_“Raquel?” Teresa appeared from the living room, instantly rushing to her friend’s side to help with the plating. “Sergio’s on the phone. I’ll help your mother with that.”_

_The youngest of the three women looked at her mother in permission, and when it was given in the form of a mock sigh and a curt nod, she ran toward the phone. If Raquel could decipher correctly, she heard laughter and menacing remarks at her excitement to hear from her best friend._

_Talking to Sergio was not a feat they frequently enjoyed, with the expensive charges from calling overseas and the time differences. Not to mention he was always pre-occupied with and the Academy enforced strict rules and regulations. The two promised to talk to each other every week or so, but neither had the constant privilege to do so. So, may the gods forgive her for being exuberant at the thought of being able to talk to him._

_The police-in-training displayed a wide grin as she reached out to the telephone. “Hi!”_

_“Hey!” Sergio replied, the sound of his voice already relaxing her. “How are you?”_

_“All over the place!” She sighed. Just the thought of going back to the Academy after their break already exhausts her. “How have you been?”_

_“Same old,” he replied. Raquel could barely understand the words being thrown behind Sergio, but it was evident that he was outside. Somewhere loud and energetic._

_“I take it you’re at a bar? Or a new year’s party?”_

_“Your accusations wound me.” He said, further exaggerating his statement by modulating his voice._ What a drama queen. 

_Raquel shrugged. “Just wishful thinking. Your mother is celebrating with us. And Andres. I’m just not sure where he is now, he fled the house after dinner.” It was a little tradition their families started when they both left for college. The silence in both of their houses drew Teresa and Raquel’s mother closer and soon started to have dinners together when Raquel and Sergio went home for the weekends._

_“Typical of him,” he said, pertaining to Andres. “Nice of him to celebrate with you, at least.”_

_“It was. His presence was a delight. Better than yours.” She teased, already imagining how Sergio would attempt to roll his eyes at her retort._

_“You have a weird way of saying ‘it would have been better with you here.’” He replied, the noise in the background diminishing and the sound of his footsteps growing louder._

_She waited until he settled. “I’d say you’re wrong, but I don’t have all night.”_

_“And the commander-in-chief has finally shown her vulnerabilities! She admits she misses me.”_

_She defended herself, “I did not explicitly say that.”_

_“It is what you implied, however.” He pointed out._

_“Fine. I do miss you.” She conceded. “A lot. Everyday.”_

_“I do, too.” His voice softened. “Raquel?”_

_“Yes?”_

_“Don’t tell my mother just yet, but I’m going home sometime before this semester ends.”_

_Raquel’s heart thumped at the thought of seeing him again. The vision in her mind was not of airports and “welcome back” signages, but of their last night together and what it could have been. She could still feel the softness of his lips as it touched hers years ago—like the first drop of water in the middle of a desert, and once she had a taste, she would rather drown in his ocean than be without it at all._

_She had to live without it, however. And she has been living that way for two years already. Sometimes, she wonders if she’d rather have their lines blurred or not. Apparently, she only has one choice, and his friendship was it. But there are nights that she lets her mind wander about what could have been if they didn’t shy away from goodbyes and the dangers of being involved with each other._

_The way her mind wandered involuntarily at that night already screamed trouble. She shook away the thought and gulped before replying. “Tell me when so I can fetch you from the airport.”_

_“I expect nothing less from you. Use your cop privileges so you’ll be the first person I see.”_

_“One, I’m not yet a cop, and two, you’re not even worth breaking protocol for.” His laughter filled her ears. God, how she missed him._

_A countdown started flashing on television, montages of fireworks and people celebrating the new year are displayed on the screen. Her mother and Teresa rushed to the living room, chanting the numbers as they hear it on TV._

_10…_

_9…_

_8…_

_How she wished Sergio were here to celebrate with her._

_7…_

_6…_

_5…_

_If he were here, would he be her new year’s kiss?_

_4…_

_3…_

_2…_

_Don’t be ridiculous, he’s her best friend._

_1…_

_God, let this confusion end before it ends her._

_Her reverie was broken by the loud “Happy New Year!” greeting from both her mother and Teresa. She excitedly echoed the words back, already looking forward to the year ahead of them._

_She returned the receiver back to her ear and spoke, hoping that Sergio did not hang up._

_“Sergio? Still there?”_

_“Yes,” he replied. “Happy New Year, Raquel.”_

_“Happy New Year, Sergio.”_

_“Six more hours,” he reminded her._

_“I’ll call you in a few hours, then?” She offered, making a mental note to not go crazy over the wine Andres brought so she’d be up at 6 AM._

_“Until then, mademoiselle.”_

_“Until then.” She said with a smile, before hanging up. She was already counting the minutes until she hears his voice again. She stared at the movement of the clock, willing it to move faster._ Until then. 

* * *

His back was turned to her as he at the edge of his bed, while her back was rested on the headboard. An array of clothes and other travel paraphernalia took up the other half of the mattress, and a black suitcase lay on the floor, waiting to be filled by its owner. The professor concentrated on folding his shirts, refolding some of the material a few times before strategically placing it in the bag.

His laptop was on her lap, using the device to search for tourist destinations in St. Petersburg. The production would be leaving tomorrow, and despite what the producers said about their free days and itinerary for said days off, Raquel wanted to know which places she’d be able to go to if she were to pull a Houdini from the production.

She looked up from the screen. “What do you think I should do in Russia?”

He stopped folding a powder blue shirt and turned to her. “Work?”

“I mean during free time.” The actress clarified, giving him a deadpanned look.

“Read Lenin?” He suggested.

Her eyebrows shot up at his recommendation. “That would be an experience.”

Sergio’s voice turned bigger, channeling a bass-like tone. “Workers of the world unite; you have nothing to lose but your chains!” He even used his hands to exaggerate his point.

Raquel rolled her eyes. “You’re quoting Marx.”

“And Engels.” He mused. “For a former cop, I’m quite surprised you’ve read such controversial material.”

“You wound me.”

“Just airing out my thoughts. No offense meant.”

“Whatever you say.” She spat her mock annoyance. “Aren’t you going to bring suit jackets?”

He pointed out to his mountainous pile of unfolded shirts. With the number of clothes he would bring to London, Raquel wondered how many days he is actually staying there. “I am, I still haven’t—"

She cut him off, already closing his laptop and placing it on his bedside table. “On it.”

The closet invader rummaged through the numerous suit jackets in his wardrobe. She didn’t even know he owned that many jackets. After combing through his clothes for about five minutes, she finally was able to present to him three suit jackets. One being a gift from her for one of his first international conferences. His lucky suit, he would say.

Her hands reached out to a folded garment bag on the topmost shelf. The plastic material cooperated, but not without dragging a box from the same place. The cardboard box dropped with a thud, revealing its contents. “Sorry.”

Raquel picked up what seemed to be a ring box. The velvet fabric was already worn out, but it was undeniably a ring box. It was probably not her place to examine what’s inside, but curiosity got the best of her. A classic diamond engagement ring greeted her. “What’s this?”

She turned slowly to meet Sergio’s curious look. “Oh.” She walked toward the bed, bringing the box with her, and sat beside him. Raquel tried to pry away her gaze from the ring, but to no avail.

“That was my mother’s engagement ring.” He pointed out to the content of the box. As if broken by trance, she returned it to him, suddenly feeling like a robber who was caught in the act. “She gave it to me years ago. I thought it was a practical joke. It was supposed to be passed down to Andres, but it was too simple for him and his fiancée at the time.” He explained. Not knowing what to respond, Raquel just gave him a small smile, admiring the ring and the man who held it.

“Do you want to hear a story?” He offered.

“Go ahead.” She urged him.

Sergio took it as his cue. “When my mother met my papa, she hated him. I believe that repulsed is more appropriate. He used to tease her around work and in the neighborhood. Harmless banter, but it annoyed my mama.” He smiled as he narrated the story, clearly enamored by stories of his family.

Raquel rolled her eyes. “Now I know where you got your attitude from.”

He ignored her remark and continued his anecdote. “She avoided him at all costs until my grandmother contracted a terminal illness. He was the only one who stood by her.

When they got together, he was fired from his last job and started robbing people for a living. His little heists, he used to call them. My parents knew that the bigger his robberies were, the greater the risk of him being caught, but she stood by him. Urged him to be better.

And he wanted to do right by her. He applied for jobs, honest ones. Saved up, and this,” Sergio placed the ring on her palm. For what reason, she did not know. “Dad loved telling the story of this ring. A symbol of change and hope for him.”

“Your dad was a good man.” Raquel reminisced. She only met him a few times before he died—during the occasional Marquina family dinner that Raquel was almost always invited to. Most of the time, it was his mother, Andres, and Sergio. But in the few times she interacted with him, he proved to be a man of honor. If permitted, his family was his first priority.

Sergio smiled at her remark. “I hope I was half the man that he was.”

Her palm was placed on top of his right hand. “You are,” she reassured. She examined the ring once more, light glistening as it reflected on the perfect cuts of the diamond. “It looks perfect.”

“It is.” Sergio agreed.

“Whoever you’ll give this to is a lucky woman.” She returned it to him and watched as he carefully placed it on its previous home, then to the larger memory box where it belonged to.

“No. I’d be a lucky man.” And he smiled at her. A smile that if possible, would reach the heavens above. Her grin matched his, her nose scrunching a little bit. There were no further words, but there was a promise.

She rummaged through the other contents of the box; Sergio’s previous task was now put on the side. “What’s this?”

“Old pair of glasses.”

“Duh.” She deadpanned. “Any story behind this?”

“None. Just that my eyesight has turned to the worse.” Raquel wore the black-rimmed glasses and turned to him. “Ah. It suits you better.”

“Anything I wear of yours looks better on me.” He shrugged then shook his head no. Her palm playfully smacked his arm.

_Liar._

The actress stood before him, his right knee in between her legs. She tousled her hair, allowing it to curtain and frame her face. “Do I look like a professor now?” Raquel could see his breath turn ragged at the sight of her on top of him.

“Teach me, then.” He pulled her down, as she shifted her position to straddle him. Her knees were now on both sides of his thighs, as her hands clung to the lapels of his shirt. She teased him by grazing her fingertips on his neck, each tip leaving a burning sensation. Her hips moving involuntarily against him.

If what escaped from his lips was a groan, or an attempt to even out his breathing, she did not know, nor did she care. It was music to her ears either way.

Her lips lightly touched his as she whispered. “But I’d rather be your student.” He captured her lips before she even got away with teasing him. His mouth sucked on her bottom lip, rendering a soft, high pitched moan from her.

And as if something broke out of him due to her words, he turned them over, their mouths unceasingly fused together. She leaned lower back on the bed, her right arm supporting her weight while her other hand was lost at the back of his neck, keeping him near her. She broke free from captivity and unbuttoned his shirt while his fingers played at the hem of her top.

 _God, she couldn’t stop staring at his toned body_.

Couldn’t stop staring at his arms like it was sculpted by the world’s best artist, the broad shoulders she loved leaning her head on, the chest that was only meant to be touched by her palms. She noted the changes brought by his frequent workouts, and secretly thanked all the gym equipment that helped build the masterpiece in front of her. Adonis had nothing on him.

She couldn’t stop staring at his body. That’s what she learned the moment they first slept together. And despite how many times she had been witness to that sight, Raquel still stopped for a second or two to marvel at the vision of him. 

As he found himself half-naked in front of her, he wasted no time in pulling her _(it was actually his, but who was keeping tabs, right?)_ shirt overhead, revealing lace underwear which did nothing to hide whatever has to be hidden. His palm flitted over her peaks, sending a shiver down to her spine. She pulled him closer as she shifted on the bed until she was comfortably in between the mattress and a dismantled Sergio. 

He brought her wrist to his lips, planting a kiss on each of her fingertips, then her palm. Sergio placed his mouth on her wrist. “Radial artery.” He slowly dragged his lips on her forearm, his teeth lightly grazing on her skin.

“Clavicle.” He moved upward and whispered against her shoulder blades, then biting on the black fabric resting on her skin, pulling it down until the middle of her upper arm, giving him better access to her upper torso. Kisses were peppered from the edge of her shoulder trailing up to her neck, making sure to stop at every mark, a checkpoint of some sort.

He moved over her, his next destination the other side of her neck. “External jugular.” He whispered to her ear just before he rained small kisses on where the vein would have been. His tongue trailed a few inches lower before sucking on the area. It would leave a mark on her skin; she was certain of it.

Her breath sent shivers to his body. “Interesting. Tell me more.”

“Internal jugular.” Then, back to her right side. His left hand reached her back, searching for the only thing that was serving as a barrier between her skin and his: her lace bralette. As she felt the familiar unclasping of the fabric, she quickly removed it, discarding it somewhere. His palms cupped her breast, as his mouth trailed downward, leaving a wet trail on her chest. “Sternum,” he whispered. Her breaths growing shallow every time his thumb grazed her peaks.

He moved downward, downward, _downward;_ his teeth once again capturing a black fabric and dragging it down. His eyes locked with hers as he pulls the material from its previous place. Only her underwear was supposed to be pulled down, but she finds herself drowning in the sensation he gives her. _They hadn’t even started yet_. He positioned himself back to her center, his lips trailing on her inner thigh muscle. “Gracilis.” He muttered, the feel of his beard further driving her into ecstasy.

“Labia majora.” He mouthed against her, her breaths shifting into recurrent whimpers due to the toe-curling, sheet-crumpling arousal he gives her. “Labia min—” He further dug into her. If he ever got to finish pointing out that body part, she wouldn’t know. Both of their ears were filled with her full-fledged moans. He didn’t stop giving until she arrived.

And as she recovered, he quickly discarded what was left of his clothes, and positioned himself over her. She pulled him closer, her fingers digging on his waist as he moved inside her, slowly tearing her apart. Their hips met halfway, the pace gradually picking up, and their voices mixed—her alto to his baritone, a crescendo of her whimpers and his grunts filling the room, a syncopated beat heard from their bodies colliding. And now, neither knew where one ended and the other started.

And she begs.

She begs.

And pleas.

_And begs._

He arrives first, her following close after.

He collapsed beside her, the insurmountable high of their activity not lost on them. Her tresses were spread all over his pillow. His arm, draped over her torso as he nudged on her jaw, content with their current position. Raquel, naked, under him.

“It’s funny. We’ve waited for so long,” she said with a voice so low, so soft, she wasn’t sure if he even heard her. “I didn’t even know I was waiting.”

“I knew I was.” He whispered against her, too lazy to even look at her.

She took advantage of the situation: “College crush?” As always, he shook his head no, and yet, the smile she felt forming on his lips said otherwise.

She wonders if it were possible to miss something you’ve never had before. Because here, in the comfort and warmth of his body, she had realized the part that has been missing all along. A resolution to a tension that has been pulling her string for so long, and yet, she never once noticed.

The actress has had her fair share of lovers in the past, but none came close to this strong, irrevocable emotion evoked by the man beside her. Maybe it wasn’t possible for something new to make her feel this way—like it has always been them; like there was no past, and there will be no other future without them.

But, it did, and then appeared the thought that somewhere, in another plane maybe, there’s a version of them living happily together. A version that had not experienced the yearning, the confusion, and complications because they weren’t afraid of risking anything.

This feeling of familiarity despite their relationship’s novelty is just relapses of that universe, reminding her—them of what they _could_ be, and not just what could have been.

“Do you know what my favorite part is?” He whispered, his breath tickling the crook of her neck. A pattern of lines and shapes are drawn by his fingertips. He wasn’t the greatest visual artist—not at all, but she had this urge to tattoo the movement on her skin.

Raquel shifted her head slightly, appreciating the sight of his flushed face. “What?”

“This.” He propped himself on one arm, then placed his other hand on her jaw, his thumb lightly touching her bottom lip.

She hummed a sound of acknowledgement. “And what is it called?”

_“Heaven.”_


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all your greetings and comments on the previous chapter! I hope you guys enjoy this one!

**From: Raquel Murillo**

**To: Sergio Marquina**

**Subject: Stranger in Moscow (Haha get it?)**

**Date: Friday, August 16, 2019**

Hi! Just wanted to update you that we arrived at our hotel. It's pretty neat—I'm sure the production went all out. I don't even want to know about how they manage their finances by spoiling the whole team. They gave us a day to rest, then we'll start rehearsing at the location. Attached herewith is a photo of me at the airport and my hotel suite. (I swear I asked for a smaller room, but they just wouldn't have it.)

I hope you don't mind using my email instead of WhatsApp. I kind of missed writing to you in such a formal way. (I can hardly call this formal, but you know where I'm going.) I remember the two-sentence "letters" you used to leave me for when I spend my summer vacations with Dad in Lisbon.

I also know you lurk here more often than your other inboxes, so I hope this isn't that much of a surprise.

See you soon,

Raquel

* * *

**From: Sergio Marquina**

**To: Raquel Murillo**

**Subject: Re: Stranger in Moscow (Haha get it?)**

**Date: Saturday, August 17, 2019**

Hello, stranger. I hope this email finds you well. This, no doubt, was a surprise, albeit a pleasant one. I do remember my very short letters addressed to you back when we were kids. I could only muster the words, "When are you coming home? Andres took my stuff again," with very childlike penmanship. I hope you weren't offended that I only needed you as an adolescent because Andres was pretty much scared of you.

I am relieved to see you in such a good state after a long flight even as you were sleepless the night before. (I'm sorry, I couldn't pass on that one.) I hope you're well-rested.

It is with great disappointment that I announce that you might have kicked my folded shirts from the bed the other day. Now, I have to refold them once again. Attached below is a photo of the mess you've made, with Icarus in the background. He says hi.

Don't reply until you've slept at least 10 hours,

Sergio

* * *

**From: Raquel Murillo**

**To: Sergio Marquina**

**Subject: Re: Re: Stranger in Moscow (Haha get it?)**

**Date: Saturday, August 17, 2019**

Dear Sergio,

I'm exhausted. But I also couldn't sleep properly on an unfamiliar bed, so I'm sorry to disobey your orders. Couldn't sleep for more than 30 minutes.

Regarding your shirts, don't blame it all on me. You were the one who "moved" around the other day. Also, don't think I don't know that you enjoy organizing your shirts. I've seen you refold one shirt about three times before depositing it to your dresser once.

I am deeply offended that you have only entertained my friendship because I act as a deviation tactic from your brother. I, however, disagree that he was scared of me, as I am but a scrawny girl two years younger than him. Your brother only backs down when I'm around because he knows your mother loves me. If I cry, no pastries for him. (Not that I cry at the littlest matter.)

P.S. Make sure to give Icarus his favorite treats and his penguin stuffed toy.

P.P.S. I wrote this about three hours ago and forgot to hit send, and now I'm feeling drowsy. I think I'll recharge myself.

Zzzzzz,

Raquel

* * *

**From: Sergio Marquina**

**To: Raquel Murillo**

**Subject: Re: Re: Re: Stranger in Moscow (Haha get it?)**

**Date: Saturday, August 17, 2019**

Good night, Raquel. I can't wait to hear about your trip.

P.S. I swear, he was afraid of you. I think he still is.

I hope you dream of me,

Sergio

* * *

**From: Raquel Murillo**

**To: Sergio Marquina**

**Subject: First Rehearsals**

**Date: Sunday, August 18, 2019**

Hey, Sergio!

We just finished our first rehearsals! It was a little tiring but it was finally good to get back on set. They also had a medic and a stunt double nearby in case I accidentally sprain my foot again. I was given the privilege of not taking part in any of the chasing scenes, but I refused. It proved to be hard, though. I can't believe they made me run in heeled boots in a rocky forest. Thankfully, no one was injured.

To keep you updated, we filmed the first three scenes of the Russiaverse near the city outskirts then we were able to tour around the Catherine Palace.

Attached herewith is a photo of me acting all noble and ladylike. (I hope I looked the part.)

P.S. How is your research going?

Dasvidaniya,

Raquel

* * *

**From: Sergio Marquina**

**To: Raquel Murillo**

**Subject: The One Where Icarus Is Territorial**

**Date: Monday, August 19, 2019**

Hello. That photo looks great! I'm pretty sure the Palace looks surreal. Don't push yourself too much. I'm not sure how the medic will tend to your foot if you ever sprain your ankle again. Twice is too much, Raquel.

I'm pleased to say that most of the findings are congruent to our hypothesis and we're nearing the final stages of the experiment. By next week, it's ready to be presented in Oxford.

It is with a heavy heart that I announce that your dog sorely misses you. He marked your shirt his territory and I'm afraid your white shirt has turned yellow. Icarus prefers it to his rather expensive bed. See photo below.

P.S. Remember when you said I looked like that Dmitri guy from that film you used to watch? Only proves you had a crush on me in high school, then.

Rolling my sleeves up to my elbow,

Sergio

* * *

**From: Angela Abril**

**To: Raquel Murillo**

**Subject: Domestic Violence Case: Restraining Order**

**Date: Thursday, August 22, 2019**

Dear Ms. Murillo,

Good day! I hope this email finds you well. After much deliberation, the firm agrees to take on the case you presented to one of our partners the past month. Filing a case before the court can take up a lot of effort and not to mention time-consuming. Due to this, I strongly suggest that you file a restraining order against the accused as a preventive measure. We are aware of the previous order that has been served to the accused, but seeing that it was lifted after a year of enforcement, we suggest that you file another one to prevent further attempts to communicate with you.

Attached to this email is an encrypted file containing the form you would have to fill up to file a restraining order. Please return with complete details and information regarding the case. Medical certificates, screenshots, or any material that would support your claim is also encouraged. Rest assured that we follow the Data Privacy Act and all information is highly confidential.

May I also remind you to please provide a date when you will be able to present yourself to court. Should you have any queries regarding your case, please do not hesitate to contact the firm or set up a time to meet personally.

Sincerely,

Angela Abril

Junior Partner, Leiria Abogados

* * *

**From: Raquel**

**To: Sergio**

**Subject: Restraining Order**

**Date: Thursday, August 22, 2019**

Hey. Just wanted to tell you that I finally had the courage to email the firm you told me about. The lawyer advised me to file a restraining order before anything else. I think I'll send over the necessary files when I come back home.

Thank you for being there since day 1. I don't know how I would have been able to get back on my feet without you. Have a safe flight, Sergio! Send me all the photos, I want to feel like I'm a part of your trip.

See you soon,

Raquel

* * *

**From: Sergio Marquina**

**To: Raquel Murillo**

**Subject: Re: Restraining Order**

**Date: Friday, August 23, 2019**

Dear Raquel,

I'm happy you took that first step again. Of course, I will be here for you, but that was all you, Raquel. All I had to do was to stay guard beside you. If you need help with other legal matters, I'll help you. You deserve to finally rest from all the mental and emotional burden he provides.

I apologize for this short email, but I have to retire soon. Our flight is at 5 AM and my colleagues insisted on being at the airport 2 hours early. I already handed Icarus over to the neighbor's son. Here is a photo of your dog and the kid.

Stay safe! I'll call you soon.

Can't wait to hear your voice,

Sergio

* * *

**From: Sergio Marquina**

**To: Raquel Murillo**

**Subject: Hello from England**

**Date: Friday, August 23, 2019**

Dear Raquel,

We have arrived safely at the hotel, although I couldn't share the same sentiments for the airplane ride. Either the air was really turbulent or the pilots were drunk. Whatever happened, most of us were lightheaded as we got off the plane.

To whatever-Higher-Being-is-there’s blessing, however, the University paid for our expenses and even booked us at an amazing hotel. I'll attach photos of the place we are currently staying at. I asked the front desk, and they revealed to me that they do have a location in Spain. I'm not implying anything, I'm just saying that they do.

Along with the photos of the hotel are some of the pictures you asked for. I tried really hard to take a picture with the bathroom suite's mirror. I hope you're satisfied.

Let me know what time you're free so I can call you.

Call me soon,

Sergio

* * *

**From: Raquel Murillo**

**To: Sergio Marquina**

**Subject: Re: Hello from England**

**Date: Saturday, August 24, 2019**

Dear Sergio,

I'm relieved to hear you arrived safely. That hotel looks gorgeous. I would have been envious if it wasn't for the location we filmed in. It was an old palace that the prod designers refurbished to look like the grand ballroom of the Winter Palace. I felt like a Tsarina because of the costume and the set.

Yesterday, I had this encounter with a sweet group of girls. Said they were fans and gave me a bag of Russian delicacies. I'm not entirely sure how they found out I was filming in that area, but I'm overwhelmed, to say the least, at their support. I didn't know that they know me here. It was a very pleasant surprise.

Sending you over my photos with them. Oh, and they also asked about you. I wonder why?

—Raquel

* * *

**From: Sergio Marquina**

**To: Raquel Murillo**

**Subject: Re: Re: Hello from England**

**Date: Saturday, August 24, 2019**

Dear Raquel,

I don't know why you still doubt your fame. The only time you're not bombarded by supporters is when you're with me. I think I look like a bodyguard/driver when I'm next to you. Nevertheless, I am proud of you, truly.

The first plenary session will start soon and I would have to log off, but I just wanted to update you that we'll be presenting second. I have a good feeling about this. Must be the coffee they served us earlier. It was too expensive for a cup of caffeine. It better have luck-inducing content mixed there somewhere.

Wish us luck,

Sergio

* * *

**From: Agata Jimenez**

**To: Raquel Murillo**

**Subject: [URGENT] Schedule for September**

**Date: Saturday, August 24, 2019**

Hey, how's the production going? You better be enjoying your time there because you've been invited to a shit ton of events when you return. Some products would like to have you in their advertisements, as well. As I fully respect your demand for autonomy, I still have not given your word to them, and I will keep my mouth shut until you have said otherwise.

All the emails I have received will be forwarded to you within the day, but here is a rundown of the events and programs that have asked for your presence:

September 8, Musain International Network, anniversary event

-Please, please, please remind Sergio about the event. You still need to be seen together. I also took the liberty of following up on Dior regarding your dress. It's about ready and would be sent to your place two days before the event. Can you ask Sergio to receive it for you?

September 10, esRadio, radio interview

September 11, Valencia Media Network, TV interview

September 15, Fabian's movie premiere

September 18, SWAV's Ladies' Night, resource speaker

I've doubled checked these with your call sheet for September. Let me know what you think of them. Have fun in St. Petersburg, or wherever you might be! I expect something from you when you get back home.

P.S. If you need a list of people who would be dying to be your personal assistant and secretary, don't hesitate to ask for it. I'm not getting paid enough to do all your scheduling.

Agata Jimenez

Senior Talent Manager

Musain Media Group

* * *

**From: Raquel Murillo**

**To: Agata Jimenez**

**Subject: Re: [URGENT] Schedule for September**

**Date: Saturday, August 24, 2019**

Hi, Agata! The production is going great! I think we have filmed at least a third of the whole film now. The release date is still uncertain, due to the heavy CGI editing in post-production, but will soon let all actors and agencies involved know so they might start planning accordingly.

Also, thank you for respecting my request to let me be hands-on in my career. In that case, please let all the organizers/producers know that I will be able to attend their events. I'm very much looking forward to that Ladies' Night speakership.

Thank you so much for doing this!

P.S. Why would I need a secretary when you're the best talent manager in the world?

—Raquel

* * *

**From: Raquel Murillo**

**To: Sergio Marquina**

**Subject: The One Where I Have a Favor to Ask**

**Date: Saturday, August 24, 2019**

Hi, Sergio!

Biggest of luck! I hope you're wearing that lucky suit jacket. You can never go wrong with that one. I also hope you're wearing your navy blue tie. If not, I'm making it my personal mission to burn all your ugly printed ties at home.

My only prayer is that your presentation goes well as I have two things to ask of you. I need you to stop being my chauffeur for two events and join me as a guest. I know you've agreed to the anniversary event of Musain, so, I am only here to remind you of the event. Also, my dress would arrive at my place Friday before the event, and I would be arriving Saturday morning. Would you be a good pretend boyfriend and be there to receive it? I'll allow you to rummage through my pantry as payment.

The other one is a personal request; from Raquel to Sergio, not the actress to her "fiancé". My cousin is getting married on the 28th of September, and I am requesting your presence. Before you say no, the couple already reserved two seats for us, and my mother is excited to see you. I'm not sure how much of you she remembers, but the whole family is dying to meet you.

P.S. You would look good in that Gieves & Hawkes suit you tried on two weeks ago. ;)

—Raquel

* * *

**From: Sergio Marquina**

**To: Raquel Murillo**

**Subject: Re: The One Where I Have a Favor to Ask**

**Date: Sunday, August 25, 2019**

Dear Raquel,

It is a privilege to play the part of your doting fiancé in both events. I am also willing to oversee the arrival of your dress in exchange for the most expensive wine bottle from your collection. I promise that I won't take a peek of whatever box will arrive, I want to be caught breathless when I see you in your dress.

I also would like to raise a concern regarding the wedding. Am I really going to meet your whole family? Don't you think we're moving a little too fast? You know, appearances like these are for couples who have been together for a long time.

Just asking,

Sergio

* * *

**From: Raquel Murillo**

**To: Sergio Marquina**

**Subject: Re: Re: The One Where I Have a Favor to Ask**

**Date: Monday, August 26, 2019**

Dear Sergio,

Seeing that you agreed to both, I expect you to be on your best behavior. My mother would be livid at the thought of me introducing a man to the family, so please be an angel in front of her. I'm pretty sure that she likes you more than me, though. She has always been proud of you and your achievements, I think she might have even cheered for you more than me in our high school graduation. But then again, I wasn't the one who graduated class valedictorian.

And what do you mean by "couples who have been together for long"? As far as this fake ring is concerned, we have been together for almost two years now, and have been engaged for that past months.

To clarify, however, I am not asking this of you because you're obligated to as my pretend fiancé, nor because my cousin and her groom reserved seats for us, nor because my mother wanted to meet you again.

I want you there with me, Sergio. I am asking you to be my date.

No pretenses this time,

Raquel

* * *

**From: Sergio Marquina**

**To: Raquel Murillo**

**Subject: Re: Re: Re: The One Where I Have a Favor to Ask**

**Date: Tuesday, August 27, 2019**

Dear Raquel,

This email is to announce that we have received an award for the best dissertation at the conference and that the body has agreed to fund the continuation of our research. If proved to be successful, we might even be able to publish in international journals. We'll be out celebrating tonight before we leave for Madrid tomorrow, so I apologize if I won't be able to reply to your emails or texts. Please know, however, that you are always on my mind.

It would feel a little lonely to wake up in my apartment and not have you beside me, but I am glad that we both are making progress in our careers. You have no idea how proud I am of you.

I would be honored to be your date for the wedding.

P.S. I know that you know I wasn't pertaining to anything related to that fake ring.

No pretenses,

Sergio

* * *

**From: Raquel Murillo**

**To: Sergio Marquina**

**Subject: One last scene, and I'm free!**

**Date: Wednesday, August 28, 2019**

Dear Sergio,

Only a week more and I'll be going home. Please don't be offended when I say this, but I'm looking forward to seeing Icarus more than you. I'm joking, if your all too serious mind couldn't catch on that, but I hope you didn't forget to bring him treats. He'll hate you if you come emptyhanded.

Congratulations on your award! I've witnessed all your sleepless nights all in the name of science, and I couldn't be happier to see it finally bringing something back to you. Do you want to go out and celebrate when I get home? Dinner is on you, though.

We're on our last scenes of filming, and I'll be free to roam around the city. I'm not sure if you remember the scene I rehearsed with you, but we finally got around to filming the scenes, and I must say, I performed better with you. The scenes were as is, sans the part where I tackled you on the couch. That one was reserved only for you.

P.S. I miss you. A lot. Everyday.

Love,

Raquel

* * *

**From: Sergio Marquina**

**To: Raquel Murillo**

**Subject: Re: One last scene, and I'm free!**

**Date: Thursday, August 29, 2019**

Raquel,

I miss you too, Raquel. It's lifeless here without you.

I'm a little hesitant about your invitation to dinner, as you have delightfully put that I was to pay. But who am I to say no to your offer? I'll be looking into restaurants, but don't complain if we end up in Hanoi.

I'll be busy for the next few days, as paperwork for the department has piled up once again. Please use this time to miss me accordingly.

Always thinking of you,

Sergio

* * *

**From: Raquel Murillo**

**To: Sergio Marquina**

**Subject:**

**Date: Tuesday, September 03, 2019**

Dear Sergio,

What have you done to me? I can't stop thinking of you and your kisses.

—Raquel

* * *

**From: Raquel Murillo**

**To: Sergio Marquina**

**Subject: DON'T OPEN THIS UNTIL YOU'VE FINISHED ALL YOUR PAPERWORK**

**Date: September 06, 2019**

Sergio,

Hey. It's our last night today and most of the cast and production are still out dancing at a nightclub near our hotel. I'm not looking forward to a flight with zero sleep, so I turned in earlier. Do you remember how you always say I'm more vulnerable at night? I used to wonder if you're pertaining to my physical or emotional state. I understand now that it's more of the latter than the former. Because now, there's something about the quiet night, the waning moon, and me being alone that compelled me to strip bare from all of my inhibitions.

I know that I have told you about a hundred times how much I've missed you for the past weeks. While that is true, it barely covers half of how it truly is. It has transcended into something more—I crave for your presence, Sergio. I thirst for your kisses and I hunger for your touch. And that yearning, that longing, has brought in questions that I know have always been at the back of my mind. I hope you know I'm mustering all the courage I have in my body to ask this to you.

I am an actress. I am used to playing the part of someone else. I even bask at the thought of being someone you're not even for a little while. This was how it started for me. Another role that would help me in my career. The only difference is that this role is something that does not require too much of me and that I will be acting alongside someone whom I'm very comfortable with.

Weeks pass, and months fly, and all I could think about is how our lines have blurred. We've tried crossing that line a long time ago—unconsciously, it seems so, but we're always pulled back by something else and the next thing we'll know, the lines are repainted and more vivid than it previously was.

I am an actress. I pretend to be things I am not for a living and yet, with all the falsities found in how we started—this, this is the most genuine thing I've had in my life.

This is real, right?

Always,

Raquel

* * *

Raquel Murillo was _not_ having a nice day.

She tossed and turned on her bed last night. Just when she thought she had finally adjusted to her temporary abode, there was something beneath it that made her uncomfortable in slumber. A pea under a hundred mattresses, it seemed. Maybe it was wrong of her to lay down her weapons and unravel herself to Sergio in her last email. When she realized that it might have been a mistake, it was already buried in his inbox, waiting for the recipient to read.

Not to mention their flight has been delayed for another five hours. Thankfully, the whole production was on the same flight, and their presence helped ease boredom. It was already half-past nine when the production's vehicle pulled up in front of her apartment complex. The only thing she was looking forward to seeing, in no particular order, was her bed, her dress, and Sergio.

As she entered her place, however, the familiar greeting of her dog was lacking. Darkness engulfed her, signaling that there was no Sergio on the premises. Her first instinct, which she had acted upon, was to text him that she had arrived safely. He replied not long after, telling her he was on his way to his apartment to fetch Icarus and will go straight to her place.

The wooden floorboard creaked lightly as she rolled her large suitcase to a corner in her living room. Everything was quite the same, save for a white box on her coffee table. A giggle bubbled from her as she ran toward it.

The night was still young and her day has been saved.

The actress rummaged through the box, her eyes widening as she carefully pulled it out of its previous home and held it before her. The dress was an abundance of creme-colored material, having a Bardot neckline that would gracefully expose her shoulders. Raquel could already imagine herself wearing the gown the network had commissioned for her. Only the best for their best actress, they insisted.

A white envelope caught her eye just as she was about to try the dress on. Her initial thought was that it was a thank you card from the designer, or a written note from Agata, telling her of her schedule for tomorrow, but the familiar handwriting piqued her interest. She quickly folded the dress and deposited it back in the box before moving on to the new object of her attention.

A simple "Raquel" was written at the back of the envelope. She hastily opened it, not knowing what to expect.

_Dear Raquel,_

_When you read this, I'm probably still at work. I apologize for not fetching you from the airport or wait for you to arrive home from your flight._

_The courier called and told me that your dress was arriving earlier than expected. Rest assured that I proved to be faithful to my promise as I wanted you to have your 'moment' with your dress. That's what my mother said she felt when she first tried her wedding dress._

_Raquel, you have no idea how much I've thought about you for the past weeks. I'm frightened at the intensity of how I feel about your absence. I can't wait to see you. I can't wait to make love to you and whisper words onto that soft, supple skin of yours. I can't wait to hear your voice cry out my name as we reach our summit._

_It's how you make me feel at times like these that compels me question what's real and what's not._

_You're right. We've tried to cross that line multiple times in the past. Maybe for you, it was involuntary—something provoked by intense emotion, but I knew I have crossed that line long before you've even seen me in a different light. I was only waiting for you to meet me halfway. Maybe I didn't know it at first, but these past months have only confirmed that I did not move away from the same spot I have always been. So to answer your question, this is real. And the only pretending that I have done is pretend that I do not feel strongly for you._

_Now, I'm asking you, Raquel. Do you want to cross that line?_

_Only ever yours,_

_Sergio_

Raquel reread the letter four—five times before her train of thought was able to process again.

As a teenager, the former inspector was part of the track-and-field team of her school. She soon found that she felt most alive in between the start and finish line. The uncertainty of winning and losing. The chase. And so, that's how they danced around for months—no, years. Now, all the frustration and agony that comes with the chase is finally coming to an end.

It is in her hands now.

_Does she want to cross that line?_

The doorbell rang and her anxiety spiked. If she had ever known calm, then all traces of it had been washed away from her body. Raquel will herself toward the door, a monologue already being rehearsed in her head.

Icarus was the first to greet her, tackling her legs as soon as the door opened. "Hi, big boy!" Raquel squealed and crouched down to pet the tri-colored beagle. The dog gave an affectionate bark and his vigorous tail wagging before he ran toward the living room.

"Hey." She pushed herself up.

"Hey." He replied. "I see you've read the letter." Sergio noticed. She didn't even know it was in her hand until he pointed it out.

She gave a nervous laugh. "Yeah."

"And?" He asked, a hopeful tone present in his voice.

Raquel tiptoed and placed her lips on his, hesitantly at first, but soon gained confidence as he wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her closer to him. They were in no rush, and whatever emotion drove them before to take their activity to new heights are absent. She smiled against his kisses, and that's when it hit her.

She's always wanted to cross that line. It's only a question of when.

And she's ready now.

"Is that enough for an answer?" Raquel asked. She couldn't bring herself to stop the smile forming on her lips. The sun rose in her eyes as it met Sergio's with an anticipative gaze.

"Can we—" he started, "can we talk first?"

"Sure." She let him in, the reason for his sudden change in mood still yet to be determined. But what's present in the look he gave her revealed a hint of what's to come.

"I have to come clean to you first." His eyes were apologetic. There was no doubt in that. It took Raquel a lot of courage to make herself a promise that whatever he would confess, she'd forgive him.

_It's time for them both to be happy._

_To hell with the consequences._


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I'm back with another chapter, and I hope this makes up for the last one since most of you wanted to hunt me down. Nonetheless, here's the update and I hope you enjoy it! 
> 
> Also, TRIGGER WARNINGS for this chapter: mentions of sexual harassment.

_ Media Giant Director Terminated for Sexual Assault _

_ MADRID, Spain—Months after the court dismissal of Enrique Mendoza's sexual harassment case, Atlanta News Network's director is terminated from the company after multiple complaints and petitions against Mendoza. _

_ A statement containing reasons for Mendoza's termination was posted on Atlanta News Network's Facebook and Twitter pages. The three-page document stated the director's sexual misconduct in the company, including sworn statements from women Mendoza worked within the network. _

_ "He has proved to be of great asset in the company, but we do not have a place for sexual predators in the network. The same disciplinary action will be brought upon sexual violators, should there be any left." ANN's President, Sara Ranada, said in an interview with the network's evening news program, Al Punto. _

_ Isabela Cervantes, who filed the first case against Mendoza, remained silent on the issue. _

_ "We stand in support of the women in the workplace, including, and especially Isabela Cervantes. No woman should walk the halls of her workplace in fear of being sexualized by their co-workers. We call on the High Court to meticulously review this case as well as similar cases of violence against women." Feminist group leader Cristina Alonso stated in an interview after a protest action near the Supreme Court building on Saturday, September 7. _

_ Mendoza will face multiple charges of sexual assault. _

_ This is a developing story. _

* * *

Her eyes hurt.

No, not because of the excessive dabbling of the eyeshadow brush on her lids, nor the extreme sport called crying she participated in the night before, but because of the staring contest she found herself in with the heels that she was supposed to wear for the event later that night. Don't get her wrong, it was a pair of Christian Louboutin pumps, customized for the owner, but it was a tad too high for her to go drinking at the event.

Yes. Drinking. That's what she plans to do.

Of course, she would rather do it alone than in the presence of her co-actors and the very reason she wanted to shower herself with alcohol, but Agata wouldn't be too pleased to find out she has skipped the celebration of their media conglomerate's anniversary. Again.

The actress grabbed the pair of heels and slipped her feet on them, hoping to break in and make necessary changes to her wardrobe if needed. Her old black pumps would do the job should this one fail her. A warm hand settled on her shoulder just as she was about to strut around the room, settling her back to the chair.

Right. She wasn't done with her hair and makeup yet. Her mind was all over the place.

"Can you close your eyes once more?" The young stylist pleaded. Raquel obeyed and she felt the familiar touch of the eyeshadow brush applying pressure to her creases. When she fluttered her eyes open, a darker, more provocative look greeted her. A contrast to the innocent look her gown would undeniably provide. Another stylist in her late twenties paid attention to the actress's hair, pulling her brown tresses into an updo and curling the side fringes to frame her face.

The makeup artist, Ali, as she was introduced, paused just before she painted the dark red lipstick on her. "How do you think your fiancé would react when he sees you?"

She hopes he never sees him, Raquel thought. Of course, she would never air that sentiment. She was an actress for a reason. With no words coming out of her mouth, she shrugged.

"I think he'd have a heart attack," The hairdresser, Mia, commented.

"He'll find that you're a temptress," Ali said once more, dabbling the smaller brush on the lipstick tube then onto her lips. The actress smiled.

The two young stylists danced around her for a while, their hands performing an intricate and well-rehearsed choreography dance with brushes and pins. When they were finally satisfied, the two stepped back to marvel at their creation. Even Raquel was astonished at her appearance.

The doorbell rang, and the actress could swear that her heart fell to the ground. If this is what Judgment Day would feel like, she'd rather be castaway than face the jury. She rushed down, Ali and Mia trailing behind her, the visitor not only Raquel's but the stylists’ as well.

She mustered all the courage she had left in her body and opened the door. The knob felt icy on her palms. "Hey," he greeted. Their eyes met but the moment was gone in a split second. She leaned in and placed a kiss on the corner of his lip, aiming to please no other than the audience behind them.

Raquel took a step to the side and welcomed Sergio. "Hi, come in." Her voice was tweaked in an attempt to hide her unwillingness to converse with him. Somehow, she knew that he was fully aware of the distance she had set.

"You look beautiful." Sergio complimented.

"Work of these artists. Ali, Mia, this is Sergio," Raquel turned to her back, the stylists next to each other and holding back their silly laughter. "Sergio, Ali and Mia."

Sergio moved past her and offered his hand to the ladies. "Nice to meet you. You have done a wonderful job."

"She's already beautiful, we just accentuated her features." Mia, the one with a gradient blonde-brunette hair, mused.

"Thank you, girls," Raquel said gratefully.

Sergio, in his designer tuxedo, straightened his posture and brushed off non-existent lint on his sleeve. "I've been informed that you would fix my appearance as well?"

"You say that as if you look bad." Raquel rolled her eyes at his sentiment.

With a wary gaze, he daringly flirted back. "Are you saying that I look good?"

"I'm saying that your tuxedo looks good on you." She bantered, keeping a light tone. Raquel was an actress, after all.

"That's not what I heard the first time."

Raquel and Sergio were ushered upstairs once again. Sergio to Raquel's bedroom, which was revamped to be a makeup studio, and Raquel to a guest bedroom, which now acted as a dressing room. The creme-colored gown was laid out on the bed, already waiting for her. She gathered the dress and emerged to the bathroom to change from her knitted sweater and jeans to something more appropriate for a black-tie event.

It had been months since the last time she went to this part of the apartment, only using the room as extra storage or for when her friends spent the night over. But it was unlikely that the mirror lied. Her reflection bore the image of a beautiful woman.

She almost believed it, thanks to the cosmetic products on her face. The concealer did the most perfect job of covering the dark circles in her eyes, the liner and mascara made her eyes look more alive. The red paint on her lips gave her the smile of a stunning woman.

The sturdy material of her jeans and the soft fabric of her sweater pooled at her feet as she stepped away from them, the only thing keeping her from sheer nakedness was her underwear. Her body satisfied whatever the directors and photographers looked for when she stepped in front of the cameras. To them, she was immaculate, flawless. And yet, as she trailed her fingertips across her stomach, all she could feel were cracks and fissures on her porcelain, fragile skin.

Her fingers lowered her underwear, revealing a thin scar. It was barely visible, thanks to the multitude of scar reducing products she applied on it for the past years, but it only proved her previous sentiment. But no, her physical appearance was far from her concerns. It went far beyond that, seeping well inside her, silently eating her alive. It's the pain she garnered from the scar and the incumbent weighted feeling inside her that made her question her worth.

Maybe she had been overreacting, after all. It shouldn't have hurt like this. Shouldn't have been the reason she barely slept the night before, even after an exhausting flight. Sergio explained his side, and that would have been enough. She's not brought back to that fateful night years ago. Instead, she envisions the day he finally chooses someone else above her. The word jealousy sears a third-degree burn on her tongue; the taste of it, metallic. And yet, it's more than that.

This is why she hesitated— _ refused _ —to ask Sergio to do this with her in the first place.

A firm knock on the door broke her reverie. "Are you okay in there?"

"I'll be out in a minute." She called out, removing other articles of clothing that would be seen under the Bardot neckline dress. The actress slipped on the dress, zipping up halfway. She piled the discarded clothes on one hand and left the bathroom.

"Can you help me?" Raquel turned her back to the stylist who rushed to help her as she adjusted her footwear. Ali reshaped the fabric on her dress to unlock its full effect. When she was satisfied, she stepped back to survey the actress's appearance. The stylist's nod of approval was all Raquel needed before leaving the room.

* * *

_ She let him in, and he silently strode inside the apartment. When she found the apologetic look he has, her eyes turned wary. Whatever light in her eyes was left from their previous kiss had vanished, anxiety washing over her as she muttered her next words. Raquel could only hope she could uphold the promise she made mere moments earlier. _

_ "What is it?" _

_ He ripped the band-aid off. The quicker he did it, the more it stung. "Leila kissed me on our last night in Oxford." _

_ Her voice turned weak. "Oh." When he didn't answer, she mustered all the courage left in her body and asked the very question she doesn't want to hear the answer to. "Did you allow her to?" _

_ He shook his head. "No." _

_ "Did you kiss her back?" _

_ His answer was firm. "No." _

_ Raquel crossed her arms. A power pose that would shield her from the tears that threatened to form in her eyes. "Then why didn’t you tell me earlier?" _

_ "It was something I know you don’t want to talk on the phone about." _

_ "So, you just let it rot? Let it slide?" She spat the words out. _

_ Yet, he remains calm. She could tell he's rehearsed this multiple times. It must have been eating him alive too. "I’m telling you this because I want to come clean." _

_ Raquel shook her head in disbelief. It wasn't her to pick up a fight, but her pride, her want for peace of mind won't let her. "You know what? She wouldn’t have done that unless you have done something that would make her think she’s allowed to." _

_ Sergio furrowed his brows together. "Are you telling me that I flirted with her in those five days? Played house with her?" _

_ "I don’t know!" Raquel couldn't stop her tone from rising. "I know I wasn’t exactly the most transparent with my feelings, but who knows? Maybe you’ve been keeping her at arm's length for when you’re tired of me. I know I could be a burden, but—" _

_ "You're not a burden, Raquel!" He cut her off with a loud voice. "I thought you trusted me." _

_ "I did—" Raquel slipped, then corrected herself. "I do." _

_ "You trust me, and yet the moment I come clean to you, you accuse me of—God, this is frustrating." He raked his finger through his hair to mirror his words. "You know that that’s beyond my morals. You really thought I would leave you?" _

_ Raquel squinted her eyes. Frustration, anger, jealousy all welled up within her. "This is more than whether your fucking moral compass is working or not! If you truly lo—no. I’m sorry. Look, it’s been a long day for me, and I have to rest for tomorrow. Can we just leave it first?" _

_ A good minute passed before any of them acknowledged her words. The fuel that ran within him earlier had been finally drained out. He looked at her apologetically, his hands itching to touch her, to reach out to her. "Trust, Raquel. I am not him nor your father." _

_ Raquel finally looked at him. She didn't even bother to hide or be ashamed of the tears stinging in her eyes. Her mouth formed a thin line, forbidding her from saying anything she knows she might regret after. _

_ He sighed and brought his hand near her face before dropping it. "I'm sorry, Raquel. I truly am." _

_ And he left. _

_ A part of her wanted to run to him, to kiss the fucking taste of a different woman away from his lips, to crawl on her bed next to him. A different part of her, the one that apparently won, stood still and watched his figure move further each step until he, not even his shadow, was nowhere in sight. _

_ She pushed the door closed, the wooden material heavy against her palms. The battle within her ensued, but she was too tired, too exhausted to even think about it. Raquel decided to sleep on the war, leaving it up to them what would arise victorious in the morning. She'll know when she meets him tomorrow. _

* * *

Hostility. It won over her; present in the way she distanced herself earlier (and how she would act later that night), but the sight before already made her doubt her self-control. 

Sergio looked good. Looked handsome. Looked like someone who was ready to take her apart, inch by inch. Raquel cursed herself mentally for even thinking that. Despite her internal conflict, Raquel had to give it to him. Not much of his appearance changed—he still had that heart-clenching smile that reached his eyes and his signature perfectly trimmed beard. His usually disheveled hair, however, had been slicked back.

Her knees grew weak at the sight of him.

Much as she hated him at the moment, she grew heavily disappointed at herself every passing minute.  _ Oh, this was going to be a long night. _

Sergio looked at her through the vanity's mirror then to the stylists. "Will you two lovely girls leave us for a minute?" He said, giving them a lopsided grin that would render a woman helpless.

Ali spoke up, her voice was chirpier than usual. "Sure, but please be careful not to smudge her lipstick too much."

Raquel laughed lightly. "Thank you, girls." The actress waved the two of them in dismissal. The sound of their falling footsteps grew quieter as they descended the stairs. Raquel closed the door lightly for good measure. At least now she didn't have to pretend.

Sergio towered over her, even in her Louboutin heels. He brought the black material of his bow tie in front of Raquel. Knowing what it meant, the actress grabbed it and started her work. She willed her eyes to focus on the tie and the tie only. Not even when they were almost at eye level with each other. Not even when his cologne intoxicated her.

When she was done, Raquel made the mistake of meeting his gaze. A concerned look was present on his face. Despite how his appearance made her feel, anger won over. "What is it?"

"You've been crying." He noted.

She has. Hours after he left. In the middle of the night, when the only noise you could hear from the outside was the whistling of the wind and the occasional whirring of vehicles passing through. Her stifled sobs made the loudest noise in her apartment. It was short—induced by nightmares she'd rather not talk about, but intense enough for it to leave traces in the morning.

"And what is it to you if I have?"

He whispered, his fingers toying with the lock of hair on the side of her face. "It's everything to me."

"Why?" She huffed. "Because it makes you guilty?"

"Because I swore that I would never be the one causing you pain."

"So, this is what it is then? A redemption arc of some sort? I might not be the world's greatest storyteller, but it doesn't work that way, Sergio." She seethed, and he winced at her words. His reaction made her guilty.

He sighed. "I’m sorry, Raquel."

A knock startled both of them.

"I know."

The person knocked again and spoke loudly. "Sorry to cut your time short, lovebirds, but the bridal car is waiting outside."

"We’ll be out in a minute." She called out and grabbed her purse on the bed. Raquel turned and gave Sergio a final look.

Raquel had no problems with small spaces, but the vehicle seemed to grow smaller and smaller every street they passed by. Not to mention they were cramped up in the car; Raquel in the middle of the car door and Sergio. He snaked his hand under hers, willing her fingers to intertwine with his. She wanted to, but their proximity was enough show. There was no audience save for the two stylists in the vehicle with them.

Ali and Mia were dropped off not long after, and Raquel could feel herself breathe easier. At least for the next half an hour, she could sit at a distance from Sergio. When his hand left hers, she couldn't help but miss its warmth. His touch burns, and yet, all she wants is to be under his embers until all of her is covered with chaffed skin. Her body yearns for his touch but her head wanted nothing to do with him.

_ God, this was frustrating. _

They arrived at the hotel, a five-star establishment the network refurbished for the night to suit Musain’s celebration needs. Photographers lined in front of the vehicle's door one by one, hoping to get a glimpse of the next actor to set foot on the red carpet. 

Sergio alighted first and held the door for her. Raquel scooted slowly, careful not to create creases on her dress. Camera flashes blinded their eyes as they walked on the walkway, but Raquel made sure to send their best smiles, even throwing in a wink or two to please the audience.

She was a natural. That's what the past directors she worked with would always say to her. They believed she was a natural, so that's what she gave them. Raquel charmed her way through her interviews. Who she was wearing, when her next film was coming out, how the engaged life suited Raquel, all the likes. She was used to them; even the most controversial ones. Her answer would consist of a sweet smile and a version of the truth that would please their ears.

The program the directors initiated came to a conclusion just as everyone's itching to get on the dancefloor. After two long hours of listening to speeches, the president of the network cried, "Let the fun begin!" in a ragged voice suited for an old man like him. The night was still young and alive. 

The lights on the makeshift stage then shone on the center of the grand ballroom, following the rhythm of a new pop song on the radio. Artists, producers, staff, and other invited members flocked to the dance floor. Sergio went to the makeshift bar, probably ordering himself a glass of scotch, while Raquel headed to the dessert table, ecstatic to get her hands on the macarons she had been eyeing since they arrived at the hall.

Someone arrived next to her and grabbed from the same plate as she did. "Hey lovebird, where’s your mate?" The smooth alto rang in her ears. Agata.

Raquel turned to her manager with exasperated eyes. "Can people stop comparing us to those poor birds? I’m sure not all of the pairs bird owners buy are even in love with their other half."

Agata popped in a truffle. "Are you?"

"What?"

"Not in love with each other?" She repeated so casually. Raquel could only hope no one paid attention to their conversation. If they did, she prayed they weren't giving any context clues.

Raquel pointed a teaspoon at her and whispered lowly. "You’re no better than the people who have no idea we’re no real deal."

"Damn," she cursed. "I guessed by the way you spend all your time together, you’d have been engaged for real."

"You say that as if this is not your plan in the first place." It was her plan; she made reservations for their first dates, created a timetable they were compelled to follow if she wanted the job. She got the role, but she was never certain how her fake engagement to Sergio helped her acquire it. Raquel still went through the tedious process of auditions and callbacks.

If Raquel had been bold tonight, she'd have confronted Agata of stirring the pot in her dating life by playing matchmaker. But the actress was exhausted from all these mind games, and frankly, she was as pissed at her like she had been with Sergio for putting her in this situation in the first place.

"No need to get feisty. What’s gotten into you, anyway?"

"Nothing," the shorter woman sighed and rolled her eyes. "I’d rather not talk about it."

"Then would you rather talk about Enrique?"

It had been all over the news today. Morning show hosts couldn't help but bicker about it on national television even when their protocol was to only talk about family-friendly topics. Even radio commentaries dip on the topic, throwing a reference here and there about the director's termination. The media was all over it.

Raquel cocked her eyebrow."What about him?"

"Nothing." Agata shrugged. "Just letting you know that if you want to share your story, there will be people behind you for support." She doesn't know much of her past with Alberto, only that he used to assault her verbally and he was an asshole in general. Raquel had to tell her a version of the truth she faced to justify why she had to decline any roles offered to her.

"I’ll think about it." Raquel mused.

Of course, she had thought about it. Then again, the world has not been kind to women. Always holding the abuser at a high pedestal while grinding the victim to the ground. Then, abusers run free, able to go back to their normal lives while the victim continues to live through their nightmares. If they can do it to one woman, the probability of them doing it to another was impeccably high.

"This network is behind you," Agata reassured her, placing a comforting hand on top of hers.

All she could muster was a smile. "Thank you."

Raquel left the indulgence bar not soon after. She thought of Agata's words and what would change had she stepped up with her story. Nothing. He would still be an executive producer. That's how high he already was in the hierarchy. The actress shook her head as she walked to her destination, shaking away all previous thought.

When she arrived at the cocktail bar, Sergio was nowhere to be found. The darkened room did nothing to help her search for her date for the night. Instead, she was greeted by an old face. 

"Ah, Raquel. The star of the night herself. How are you?" She already regretted wanting a glass of martini as she turned to the source of the voice. Santiago Alvarez. He might be the producer for her film in progress, but that does not mean she owed him her respect. Not when he constantly conspired with her ex-husband.

"I was doing fine before you talked to me."

"I see you still have a knack for hostility." He chewed off a toothpick which infuriated Raquel more. "You and Alberto the same."

Raquel spat. "I am no monster."

Santiago shrugged, creasing the shoulder pads of his tuxedo. "So you say."

It's the way he regarded her so casually that agitated her. She had been patient all night, keeping all her anger and displeasure to herself. It was evident, however, that between patience and anger, Raquel picked the latter for anything that would conclude to Alberto. "What the fuck do you want?"

"Ease your tongue. You’re still talking to your Executive Producer."

"You forget we’re in a film, not a TV program," she reminded him. "The director makes the call."

"No film without the funds, right?" A sly grin appeared on his face. When he saw pure enragement on her face, he changed the subject. "I’m not here to spar with you verbally. In fact, I’m here to celebrate the network’s anniversary. I also bear good news. We’re nearing the post-production phase."

If he thought that she did not know that for herself, he must be an idiot. She doesn't air that thought, too fatigued for another fight with a man. "Thank God."

Santiago surprised the actress by leaning toward her and lowering his voice. "Can I say something off the record?"

"I’m not a journalist."

He resumed his sentence anyway. "Whatever you’re plotting, he knows." He need not elaborate on who he was talking about. Raquel got the message.

"I’m not scheming anything."

"Just passing on information." Once again, his casual conduct returned. "As I said, you’re our star. I wish you no harm."

Sergio, who was nowhere to be found mere moments earlier, appeared next to her, half-filled champagne glass in his hand. "Would it be offensive if I cut your conversation short to speak to my fiancée?" In spite of everything, Raquel felt gratitude.

"Of course not." Santiago nodded toward Sergio. "Our conversation had been very interesting, Raquel. Thank you for your time."

Sergio placed the glass on the bar and asked for her hand. She accepted his proposal, wanting to be taken away from the presence of the man she previously conversed with. The music had been changed into a romantic ballad, compelling couples, fake or not, to the dancefloor.

Raquel placed her left hand on his right shoulder. "How did you know?"

"I saw him at your wedding before." He explained, pulling their enjoined hands closer to their chest.

"Oh. Thank you."

"You’re welcome."

Neither of them knew how to act around each other. It was a cycle both of them frequently, inevitably, fall in. They will keep running in circles until one of them decides to take a step back. She didn’t want to, and nor did he. But neither was willing to address anything. For now, there were no words.

“Can you pull me closer? People are staring.” Raquel whispered to him, clasping her hands at the base of his neck, her fingers toying with the collar of his jacket. His hands snaked toward her hips, one closer to her back than the other. He did as he asked and pulled her toward him. Pulled her with him, like he always did. Pulled her one inch at a time, until she had been fully devoured by his presence, by his ubiquity, that she was already unable to protest against it.

“You seem upset. What did he say to you?”

“Nothing that would cause alarm.” She replied. He left it at that.

“Smile,” Sergio whispered, leaning dangerously close to her. If she shifted toward her right, her lips would meet his. Raquel willed herself not to think about his lips or his clever tongue. “There’s a camera to your left, pretend that I whispered something amusing.”

“You’re not the best joker there is, Sergio. I’m not a good liar.”

“But you’re an actress. What’s the difference?” She didn’t know what he meant by those words, too lightheaded to decipher any of his riddles, but the unexpected bite of his retort stung.

“Can we move the verbal sparring later? I’m in no mood.” She said with finality. For whatever it’s worth, Raquel did as he asked and pretended to be the happiest woman in the event. He also played his part, not leaving her side for the rest of the night. Pretended, they did. Even in the backseat of the car as they were being brought home.

Raquel could feel his overwhelming presence at her back, watching intently as she faced difficulty inserting her keys in the doorknob. The clicking sound came a little bit too late, and she took a refreshing breath as she opened the door wider. Raquel moved around the house, keeping herself busy until she decided to acknowledge Sergio. Or until he decides to leave her alone. Whatever comes first.

“You’re quiet. You know, I’d rather have you shouting at me than have you yield to silence.”

The silence he had no fondness of helped her think. The products of her overthinking the night before came rushing back to her. All thought led to one question.  _ Why? _

_ Why did he tell her? _

_ Why did he allow Leila? _

_ Why did she feel so strongly for him that it caused storms within her to even think about him with a woman that is not her? _

_ Why were they even playing this prolonged, exhausting chasing game? _

“You knew how I felt for you.” She settled.

“To be honest, I don’t. You’ve never said anything.”

Why is it now on her? “And neither did you! That’s beside the point!”

“Then, what is?”

“That you wrote that letter, days after that happened, and you made...” Raquel trailed off, her frustration boiling through. She should be enraged with him, yet she was more disappointed at herself for believing his words. “You still made it sound genuine! Like you were actually putting your heart out on the line!”

“Because I was! And the reason I wanted to come clean to you is that I want this.” He firmly said. “I want you!”

She shouldn’t have been surprised at his words, but she was. The air was silent once more. The words bore greater meaning when it was finally spoken. Like a thought transitioning into truth.

It took Raquel a while to answer. “You seem to have a really good way of showing that. Because right now, I don’t know where I stand with you, Sergio.” A beat passes. Then another. “Am I just someone to spend your nights with? A fuck buddy of some sort that you call when you feel alone?”

“God, you’re infuriating! Can’t you see that you’re more than that?”

“Tell me, Sergio. What am I to you?” She challenged him. Urged him to say something more than the words “I want you.” Provoked him to give her a reason. A reason to stay. A reason to fight. A reason to believe. “What am I, Sergio? Because I need a reason. I need to know why you’re fighting for this. I need to hear it from you.”

When he did not reply, she turned her back against him and waved him off. “See? We’ve hit a dead-end, Sergio. Let’s just—“

Her feet were already on the first flight of the stairs, mentally preparing herself to retire to slumber. Then, he wrapped his fingers softly around her wrist, willing her to look at him.

“No.”

And she stands before him, bracing herself for the worst, and yet the look on his face says differently. It begged her to see the adoration in his eyes and the desperation in his touch. Raquel expected him to lean in, to claim her mouth with his, to give her something to hold on to. He was never good with words, especially in conveying his emotions; Sergio, however, proved her wrong.

What he gave her was not a reason. It was a lifeline.

“I love you, Raquel. It has always been, and will always be you. It’s time for me to stop hiding and pretending otherwise. And I’ll repeat those three words until you’re convinced of that.

“You’re my best friend. We’ve been together through almost everything, and yet, I still want more. I know you want this too, Raquel. Stop running away from me. Stop running away from us. Please.”

He tugged her hand softly, willing her to look at him. “Hey. Look at me.”

She did and she felt afraid of the intensity in his eyes. Afraid of his honesty and vulnerability. Afraid of what this might now mean for the two of them.

“Tell me, again,” Raquel ordered.

“I love you.” He stumbled through the words before, but the second time was better than the first. He said it like it was his second nature.

”Why?”

“It’s just how the universe works, Raquel. There is no greater force that would ever stop me from feeling that way for you. We still have a lot to talk about and personal issues to settle, but I have faith in us.”

“When did you find out that you love me?”

“Ever since Yale. I’m certain it went far beyond that, I was just too blind to see.” Her ears could not believe what she was hearing.

All those years and he never said a word. All those years, shrouding from all the confusion she felt for him, and all those years, he reciprocated them. He was even a step ahead of her. She felt confused, he already loved her.

His patience was unfathomable.

“Tell me, again.” She asked once again, begging to hear those words.

“I love you. I am completely, irrevocably in love with you, Raquel Murillo. You’ll have to do a lot more than avoiding me to make me stop.”

And she found herself believing as well. She willed her fears away and conceded. There was no point in fighting against the tides of fate, destiny, or whichever supernatural thing brought them together.

_ They will be okay. _

“Sergio?” She finally found her voice. He made a sound of acknowledgment, encouraging her to continue her sentiment.

She pulled him closer and placed her lips on his. Softly at first, slowly building up like the storm he started in her. She kissed like it was the first time she beheld him. Raquel realized that he could have kissed her a million times and that feeling of novelty, of admiration, would not fade away.

_ They will be okay.  _

“This is me, meeting you halfway.”


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! I'm back after not updating for almost three weeks. Sorry about that! I also apologize for not being able to reply to your comments, rest assured that I will! Thank you for showing your support for this fic. You keep me going! 
> 
> Special thanks to one of my favorite mutuals, Nicole (@witchmurillo [follow her on Twitter!]), who has delightfully helped proofread this chapter. You're literally a lifesaver.

_**Monday, September 9**_

Hope was something Raquel rarely felt.

With all she had been through, seeking the light at the end of the tunnel was an act she was not accustomed to. She was too busy trying to see in the darkness to even look for a torch of light.

There are times when hope comes through new opportunities just before she surrenders to stagnant water. There are times when hope comes through her friends who are stubborn enough to urge her to get her back on her feet after cowering down in fear and anxiety.

Now, her hope came in the form of a man. A six-foot-tall man who just happened to be sleeping soundly next to her. A man whose shirt she was wearing, whose scent would surely be etched on her skin. A man who has just confessed his love for her after all these years.

This man just gave her hope that despite herself, she could still be loved.

And she felt giddy. Warmth spread over her face, like the golden hue of the sky just when the sun is starting to set. Then to her arms, slowly spreading to her body, which would ultimately end in a pool of butterflies in her stomach. The thought of it makes her laugh—she was way too old for giggling and butterflies, but he made her feel alive.

Very alive, it seems so. The rush he gave her was more than adrenaline, more than the quickened pace of her heart beating, more than the surge of euphoria brought on by the sudden drop of a rollercoaster. She couldn’t quite put her finger on it, but she felt like flying. Raquel could now understand why Daedalus warned Icarus of flying too close to the sun—to the sky. It was addicting. But she needed not to worry. He was both her sky and her ground.

The first image that was engraved on Raquel’s mind soon as she fluttered her eyes open was the sight of their hands clasped together. It seemed that they fell asleep holding each other: his left arm snaked around her waist as she was propped against his chest, her head falling perfectly between the space between his neck and shoulder. A soft smile broke out from her sore lips as she continued staring at their display of intimacy.

When they said that time flies when you’re at your peak, they failed to consider other factors that allowed the hours to draw out. The slow, soft kisses matched the intensity of fireworks on New Year’s Eve. The thousand mile journey of his fingers, trailing from the base of her neck to the small of her back, stalling each time it meets a mark. The low laughter they shared together under dimmed yellow lights; so faint, so subtle, that it was only them who heard.

The gods heard their prayer. Time slowed down for them and _only for them_. Hazy memories of the night before filled Raquel’s mind, like some blurry montage from a 1980 film they used to watch on weekends. After his vulnerable confession, all forms of cognition stopped. Instinct reigned over their senses.

It seemed that Raquel was still at that state. She didn’t even seem to notice Sergio awake next to her, most likely taking in the changes between the two of them.

His gaze almost burned through the crisp white material of his shirt that is now against Raquel’s smooth skin. “Take a picture,” she mused. “It lasts longer.”

A low chuckle erupted from his chest. “What?”

“You’re staring.” She pointed. Not that he needed the reminder. “I swear, if you pull off some cheesy pick-up line I’m kicking you out.”

He used his free hand to surrender, “Okay, I won’t.”

“Good.” A wide grin broke out even as she tried to suppress her elation from showing.

Sergio reached out to her waist, the warmth of his palm radiating on the curved area just as he slid it upward, then finally resting on her stomach. He waited a few moments before he gained the courage to unbutton her shirt, starting from the bottom-most part of the white material. He waited until his busy fingers were dangerously close to her breasts before he stopped. Raquel caught her breath as he almost passed her peaks. Almost, but not quite.

“Can we create a rule where you can only wear my shirts when we’re alone?” Sergio presented. Raquel swore that there was nothing more that she wanted at the moment.

“As long as you’re stark naked, why not?” She suggested.

His laughter was paired with the shake of his head. “I’m rethinking my choices.”

“I hope you’re not rethinking yesterday.” Raquel teased. Her hand splayed against his chest, intently feeling the calm rhythm of it.

“No.” He said firmly, placing a kiss on her forehead. “Not that.” Then on her Basque nose. “Never that.” Then on her lips. She smiled against the familiar feel of his mouth and beard.

He pulled away. “Although, we must get up.”

She pouted. “It’s early.”

“It’s not. It’s 9:30.” He stood up and placed his glasses. Clark Kent has once again emerged.

“So?” She rolled her eyes. “It’s cold, come back to bed.”

He pointed to the duvet. “Wrap yourself with it.”

“You’re really going to make me beg?” Raquel knelt on the bed, making her at eye level with him. She looked intently into his eyes and smiled devilishly as she witnessed his posture falter.

He gulped. “I won’t, but a man can dream.”

Raquel had the upper hand.

She believed she had the upper hand until her face was painted with a rose-like color. She glued her gaze on the sheets to hide her being flustered, only for that warmth to intensify as her eyes fixed on his skin and the waistband of his pajama bottoms. She should have been laughing at the striped pattern, but all she could think of was what lay underneath it.

As if the devil just whispered a devious task, her fingers involuntarily found the material of his waistband and hooked it, pulling him closer to her. Sergio fell into a trance and surrendered. Just like he always did.

* * *

In the mornings that came after that night, they fell into a routine. He cooks, she makes their coffee. Or vice versa. Sometimes they sleep in, sometimes they wake up late, making up for the years they spent not waking up together.

"Coffee?" Raquel offered, although she already has his mug ready on the counter.

"Yes, please," he turned from his place in front of the stove. "Three tea—"

She cut him off. "—spoons of sugar. Sweet tooth."

"You say that like it's a bad thing." He defended himself as he took the ash-colored mug from Raquel's hands. "Thanks."

The two fell into silent movements. A dance perfected by two performers who have rehearsed the same, exact sequence over and over. Sergio moved to read his morning paper (which was either a scientific journal or his school publication), whilst Raquel pored over her email and scripts for the week's filming. Their dog lay happily near their feet, perking up at the slightest movement of his guardians.

She took a bite of the pancakes he prepared for her. "We’re pushing through the restraining order. I just need to present myself in court within the week. We also have enough evidence to file a domestic abuse case."

"The TRO is good for a year, right?"

"It seems so. It was the last time." After her emergency protective order expired, she was advised to go to court and file a temporary restraining order. That was what she remembered. That year passed by like a blur in her mind. It was agonizingly slow—a stagnant, paralyzed state she couldn't get herself out of, but she remembered only chunks from that year.

It wasn't as if the restraining order helped at all. Sure, he was out of sight and was not allowed to be in close proximity with her, but the emotional and mental damage her ex-husband had done to her on top of the physical harm inflicted on her, still haunted her to this day.

"What happens after that?" Sergio asked, placing a hand on top of hers.

"I’m not sure," Raquel shrugged. "I didn’t even think I was going to have the courage to file a restraining order anymore, let alone think of what I want to happen after a year."

"Well, what do you want?"

She thought about it for a while. What did she really want? Raquel enjoyed acting, loved the feeling of being able to perform and stepping in someone else's skin for a while. There has to be something more, something that would keep her moving. "I just want to live my life without being held back." Raquel started. "Travel. Write a book. Star and direct my own film. Perform in musical theatre. Who knows?"

Sergio beamed at the way she talked about her future. He may not seem to know it at the moment, but in Raquel's mind, his presence was a constant variable in her plans. "You will, babe."

Raquel almost choked on air, the blush on her face spreading like wildfire. "What did you just call me?"

"Babe?" He repeated, laughter already breaking out from him.

She shook her head, all the while laughing along with him. Their smiles reached their eyes. "Too sappy."

"No?"

"No," she confirmed.

"Okay." He reached over to kiss her forehead. "I’ll think of something else."

Since they met halfway, everything changed for them, and yet, everything remained the same. It's what happens when you fall in love gradually: you don't notice the changes in your relationship.

You don't notice the way they stare at you and catch your gaze every chance they get when they used to look at anything but your eyes before. You wouldn't notice the little changes in the way they touch you, from slinging their arm around your shoulder, to wanting physical intimacy in even the simplest form. From wrapping their arm around your waist to the riveting feeling of their fingers rendering you undone.

You don't notice the way they slowly gain confidence in proclaiming their love for you. Not when they used to shy away from all sorts of romantic affection before.

"I love you," Sergio says one afternoon, the two of them concentrated on the stack of papers before them. Stress was evident in Raquel's demeanor, who had been scrunching her nose and forehead for the past fifteen minutes.

Still, she couldn't help but smile at his sudden declaration. "That’s quite random." Raquel looked up at Sergio, who was looking at her with adoration. She wondered how he looked at her like she could be on par with Aphrodite, even in her state of distress.

"It’s not," Sergio said smugly. "I now have the freedom to say those words anytime that I like, and I’m not passing up on that opportunity."

"Sap." Raquel exaggeratedly rolled her eyes.

"You love that about me."

"I—" She started to say, but nothing came out. She loves him, she truly does. God, it even scares her how strong her feelings are for him now, and she knows he feels exactly the same, but nothing comes out. Raquel looks down and avoids his eyes.

"Hey," he placed two fingers under her chin and begged her to look at him. 

"Don’t worry if you can’t say it now. I’ve waited years to tell you how I feel. I can wait a little longer."

Raquel smiles gratefully. "Don't you feel like it’s unfair to you?"

"No. You’ve shown your emotions in more ways than one. Those are just words, Raquel. Your actions speak for you."

"Then you must already know that I feel the same way."

Sergio met her eyes, "I know."

"Thank you for being patient." She reached over his hand and squeezed it.

"Go back to work."

"Yes, sir."

The topic was left unspoken for the rest of the day, but their hands remained intertwined under the table as they continued to work.

_Everything changed, yet nothing did._

_Nothing changed, but everything did._

* * *

The sweet, low voice of Van Morrison serenaded the background as they sat on her couch, her legs draped across his. She took a sip of her wine before placing her glass on her coffee table. "I want to know when."

"When what?"

Raquel traced the outline of his beard with her fingertips. "When you started feeling for me." He didn't answer immediately, pondering on the answer to her question. That, or because he was gravely affected by the feeling of her fingers near her lips. "If this started in high school I’m going to make fun of you big time."

"I told you, it was Yale."

"Yes, but was I your schoolboy crush?"

"Did you really think I had the emotional maturity to develop crushes in high school?" He deadpanned.

That emitted a peal of sweet laughter from her. "Right. You had the emotional range of a teaspoon."

High school had been a time of romantic and sexual awakening for most of the teenagers in her neighborhood. Parties were a biweekly thing, young couples filled every diner on Fridays, and pairs who sneaked in the cleaning closet to make out were not an unusual thing. Everyone was high in love, save for what seemed to be one boy.

Sergio preferred studying and reading to any socializing events. Of course, he would go when Raquel forced him to, but he was quite lucky that Raquel preferred to be around him most of the time.

"I was sure in college," he decided on an answer. "Senior year."

"What specific part of senior year?" She looked back on their college years. They were enrolled in different programs, lived in different parts of the campus, and had different sets of friends. Yet they always found time to be together. On her birthdays. Before his dates. After their exams. Even for her midnight escapades.

She now realized why and how it started. It would have been the same for her had she not been too in denial of her feelings, too blind, too protective of their friendship that even the thought of them being anything but platonic had to be buried at the farthest part of her mind.

"No specific moment. Just that the thought of us parting ways after college to pursue our careers is something that brought doubts to my initial plan."

"Really?"

He nodded. "I always thought it was because we spent our childhood together and were inseparable no matter how hard they tried." He grabbed her hand and started imprinting patterns on her palm. Lines and letters and circles. "I used to shrug it off when I felt bad that you were dating other guys."

"You were jealous."

"No." He dismissed her immediately.

Raquel shrugged in disbelief. "Explains the overprotective demeanor."

"That's what I thought it was; just being protective over you. Until I had to apply for a spot at Yale. The thought of living away from you for years brought me misery. More so when I found out I actually got accepted."

"Then why did you go?"

"You got into the Academy. I can't sit and wait for you when I'm not sure that you held the same feelings for me."

She took it in, slowly understanding and unraveling the intensity and gravity of this enigma which was Sergio's emotions. It was a complex, yet a very simple thing.

"Enough interrogating me, _Inspectora_. Surely you must have felt something for me before."

Raquel rolled her eyes and huffed. "You think too highly of yourself." He only looked at her smugly, and she basked in his newfound confidence of teasing her of what seemed to be taboo years ago. She slapped his chest playfully. Her hand remained on the same spot. "I did. I wanted nothing more than to keep you for myself when you were leaving for the States."

"I should have stalled, but you already knew that."

"We’re here now, aren’t we?"

"We are."

She shifted closer to him, her head resting on his shoulder. "What about the others?"

"Who?"

"You know, those before me."

Sergio moved back to look at her. "What about them?" A shrug of her shoulders. "What I felt for them was genuine. And during those times, I was certain that I’ve moved past the thought of you, but it seems that I only pivot back to my previous spot. You?"

"I knew I was confused when you left for Yale. When I met you in Barcelona, when I fetched you from the airport. But in between them, I had been dating other men. It felt... fine, I guess? Nothing that made you feel like I was the only woman in the world. It was real, but nothing as strong as..." She trailed off, suddenly feeling embarrassed with her non-articulate babbling.

"As?" Sergio questioned although he already knew the answer.

"This." She placed her forehead on his shoulder blade, laughing lightly in shame.

She looked up at him moments later. His fingers reached to move the curtain of her brown tresses behind her ear. "Sorry for letting you go to Barcelona."

"I understand now." Raquel surprised herself with her response. Should this be a normal day, she would have rolled her eyes at the thought of Barcelona and what happened in that city, but she only smiled in return.

"Given the chance, would you do it again?"

"Do what again?"

"Everything. The hiding. Not telling how you feel."

He wasted no time to answer. "As long as it ends with you."

"You really love me." It wasn't a question nor a doubt. It was a statement. A fact. A rule of the universe. It is as complex as it is simple.

"I do. God, I do. It terrifies me." Sergio confessed, and she wondered how she doubted him before. How she thought she was the only one falling, when all along he's been waiting for her.

"Sergio?" She held his eyes while hers darkened. Her teeth sank on her bottom lip as she evened out her breathing. Raquel straddled his lap, her fingers grasping the lapels of his shirt. She whispered against his neck. "Make love to me. Show me how much you love me."

"With pleasure." He pursued her lips with a searing kiss.

He fulfilled his promise as he carefully snaked his right hand under her knitted shirt, his palm gently cupping her left breast, eliciting a soft whimper from her. Sergio slowly removed her undergarment, raining her skin with kisses as he did his task. With her exposed torso, Raquel felt a little shy under his darkened eyes, nevermind that he had already seen her in all her naked glory before. Confidence once again surged as he paid her breasts all his attention, content on fondling them right before he lunged his mouth back to her neck.

He fulfilled his promise as he carried her on the stairs, her legs dutifully wrapped around his waist, the friction between her center and his adamantly increasing every step he takes. She hooked her legs tighter as she felt him grow harder. He groans at her action.

Their mouths remained fused together, her now sensitive peaks grating against his coarse chest. They almost tripped once, forcing them to stop on the ninth step of the staircase. None of them seemed to mind and continued their business. Sergio made a mental note that his belt was to be found on the stairs.

He fulfilled his promise as he placed her softly on the bed, his hand gently cradling her head while the other was on her waist. His fingers fumbling over her jeans and her lace underwear. She invites him over, arcs her body towards him, to which he gratefully accepts, his tongue darting inside her. She calls out his name, once, twice, before she succumbs to her vulnerabilities. He kisses her once again, and she tastes herself on his tongue.

He fulfilled his promise as Sergio surrendered himself fully to Raquel, allowing himself to feel the same pleasure he had given her. He snarls as he slid inside her, the journey far too long for their liking. Sergio settles in, before moving once again, driving them both to ecstasy, to paradise, to heaven, or to whatever supernatural plane is out there. She grips on his shoulder a little harder, certain that his back will be filled with scratches in the morning. He bites her bottom lip in the process.

Raquel expects him to bring her somewhere that would heighten her arousal. 

And yet, even as she arrived, _even as they both arrived_ , he seemed to have fulfilled his promise.

He showed her just how much he lives for her.

He brought her home.


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! I'm sorry this chapter took so long, but I hear you and I'm back. Thank you for all your support and comments! Also, shoutout to @gillianitziar for proofreading this chapter! Go check her works as well!
> 
> If you want extra angst, you might want to listen to this song while reading the flashback (It's also in Sergio's perspective): https://open.spotify.com/track/7d0bJhpp0mCYyMXaMgWyMS

**_Saturday, September 28_ **

Icarus’ resounding farewell bark was the last thing Raquel heard before she entered the vehicle. She waved goodbye to the tri-colored canine and their twelve-year-old neighbor who promised to look after their dog. 

Sergio placed his hands on the steering wheel, heaving a sigh as he checked the backseat if everything was in order. Raquel amusedly observed him as he fussed over their things. When he felt satisfied, Sergio moved over her to secure her seatbelt, his cologne overwhelming her. His scent alone was enough to make her knees weak. Raquel tried to sit still.

“Are you good to go?” Sergio asked, inserting the keys into the ignition.

Raquel nodded. “Ready as I’ll ever be.” To be quite frank, she wasn’t sure she’s ready to attend a wedding again. After her divorce from Alberto, she had avoided any wedding invites by sending a generous gift to the couple or making an excuse that would allow her to go MIA. Sometimes, her busy schedule was helpful. It was the first wedding she attended in years.

And now that she was supposed to be engaged to the man beside her, Raquel mentally prepared and conditioned herself to answer any wedding-related questions her family’s vicious minds could come up with.

“Your dress?” Sergio double-checked.

“At the backseat.”

“Other paraphernalia you need for your... transformation? Makeover?”

She laughed at his loss for words. “At the backseat.”

“Food?”

“We could stop at a diner for breakfast.” Raquel turned to look at him. He looked like he was going to tip over anytime. “Seriously, Sergio, don’t fuss over everything. You’ve already ticked off everything from your imaginary checklist once.”

“Sorry,” he heaved a sigh. “It’s just... the drive is long and we can’t risk you forgetting anything. It’s not the first time that has happened, you know...”

“If I do forget anything, I swear that it’s not as bad as the time I remembered I forgot my passport just when I arrived at the departure area,” Raquel reassured him. “But that’s not all, is it? You’re being fidgety.”

“Well, as you can see, this is the first time I am meeting your whole family as your...”

“My what? Boyfriend? Fake fiancé?” He gave a low laugh at that. “They already love you to death, you know that, right?”

Sergio’s eyebrow cocked up. “They do?” She rolled her eyes. Of course, they did. It wasn’t lost on her how much her mother wanted them together.

“My mom has been nagging me to bring you to lunch with her, my aunts and cousins text me occasionally, saying they would love to meet you. Although now, I could see why.” Raquel stared at Sergio, her eyes drinking in his form before finding herself staring at his arms. “I think I’d like to keep you to myself.”

“And why is that?”

“Oh, is that how we’re playing now? You fishing for compliments?”

“I’m not fishing for anything, I am just merely asking why you think your cousins want to meet me?”

Raquel shook her head. “Nope.”

“I’m not getting anything from you?” He placed his right hand on her thigh. Warmth radiated from his palm even as her legs were covered in the stiff materials of her jeans.

She bit her lip before anything escaped from her lips. “Nope.”

Sergio pleaded, “Not even one sentence?”

“Fine.” She exasperatedly gave in. “It’s because you’re an awkward man charming enough to be the subject of infatuation of the women you happen to pass by. Happy now?”

“Good thing I’ve only got my eyes on one woman, right?” He looked at her and gave her a lopsided grin that only she was privileged to witness.

“Well,” Raquel placed his hand from her thigh and back to the steering wheel. A mistake, she realized, but if he kept his hand on her, they wouldn’t arrive at their destination on time. Or at all. “That woman is politely asking you to keep your hands on the steering wheel and your eyes on the road.”

* * *

Silence engulfed them. There was no ice to break nor there was a need to speak. Raquel, however, grew bored with the low hum of the engine. Her fingers played around the vehicle’s sound system until she found a station that played music that was fit for the long car ride they were in.

“I was offered a teaching position in a university in Germany,” Sergio eased in. “I don’t think I told you that.”

“You haven’t. What comes with the job?”

“Great pay. Accommodation. Research funding.”

“That sounds... nice. Did you accept?” There was uncertainty in her voice. Raquel wasn’t even sure she’d want to know his answer.

“I didn’t.”

She could finally breathe. “Why not?”

“I think I’d be happier here. I’ve moved past the need to further my career. It’s all that I have been doing for the past two decades, and I think I’m finally content with where I am.”

The actress nodded in understanding. She stood witness in his pursuit of success in his field. All the sleepless, caffeine-filled nights attempting to finish dozens of lab reports to days of drinking like madmen because of published dissertations and journals.

“Teaching undergraduate students full time and dissecting cadavers for fun?”

He rolled his eyes. “You make me sound like a serial killer.”

“You very well could be, you know.”

Sergio ignored her retort. “I think I’m reaching the point where I want to settle down, and I would eventually have to stop chasing everything. My life is in Madrid.” He looked at her again and she  _ knew _ .

“If not in the city, where’d you want to settle?”

Sergio shrugged. “Would a house by the beach sound like an overrated vacation plan of some sort?”

Typical. “Not if you buy the whole island.”

The man beside her feigned thought. “I’d have to rob the bank of Spain to do that. Or a house near the city, something that’s ours, where we don’t have to think about landlords and loud neighbors.”

“Or being too loud for the neighbors.” Raquel suggestively said.

“Or being too loud for the neighbors.” He repeated, and all her mind could think about was when she had been too loud one night. A notice from the neighbors was slid inside from Sergio’s front door. Raquel made a mental note to tame down her voice when she’s at Sergio’s place. The car’s air conditioning was suddenly insufficient.

Apparently, Raquel wasn’t the only one affected by that memory. Shaking away his thoughts, Sergio returned the question, “Where do you want to settle down?”

Raquel thought about it. There was no reason left anymore for her to pretend that all her tomorrows does not include Sergio in them. So, she indulges him. “Probably a house by the beach, or a house near the city. I’m not sure, I think I’d have to check in with a certain someone what his plans are.”

“As long as there’s enough space for little feet to run around.” Sergio stopped himself, realizing that it was a topic they’ve never touched before. Talks of children have always been foreign, guarded territory for Raquel. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncom—“

She cut him off. “You’ve—you’ve thought about it?”

“I can’t say I haven’t... Am I moving too fast?”

She was caught off guard by his sudden sentiment, but she eventually found her thoughts. “So... a house by the beach, with enough space for little Sergios to run around. Mentally noted.”

Sergio’s face lit up as he realized that she had not shied away from the topic. “Or little Raquels.”

Raquel mused. “That would be a nightmare.”

The thought that followed was unfamiliar, but it wasn’t unwelcome. Suddenly, her mind was imprinted with images of a bustling house—Sergio in the kitchen, while Raquel follows two little children and Icarus, pleading for them to stop running around. The sound of their laughter was already filling her ears. She was never a visionary woman, but at that moment, she could swear it was a prophecy of some sort. It terrified her a little.

He reached out to her, lacing his fingers with hers. “I’d escape with you in a heartbeat. Leave this country if you’d like to. Start anew, somewhere where your past isn’t haunting you. I mean—I’m not saying that you should dodge everything, but I just thought, maybe you’d want an escape route?”

Sergio, the person who can’t go anywhere without double-checking his belongings twice, the person who has lists for everything—from his everyday routine to even the most absurd, simple things, the person who makes plans for everything, has abandoned all logical thought and dived straight right into oblivion with his question. She’d have thought he was joking, but from the look on his face, it seemed to be otherwise.

“Sergio... that would be eloping.” She replied, a tone of amusement present in her voice.

“Is there any difference?” He asked, shifting his gaze between the road and the woman on the passenger seat.

“No.” Raquel sighed and allowed herself to dream. “I would love to, if only it were up to us.”

“We’ll figure it all out. You and me.” He brought their intertwined hands to his lips and kissed the back of her hand.

Their conversation halted and what filled the car was the soothing voice of a pop singer on the radio. The drive was long, and winding but neither minded for their company was bliss. And if they stopped a few times in unsuspecting, isolated areas to satisfy whatever need have been irking in their senses, it’s their business and theirs alone.

* * *

_ Stupid.  _

_ That was what Andres referred to him the week before her wedding, when she called him in the middle of the night, begging him to be the one to accompany her to the altar. _

_ “You’re the only male figure in my life that matters, Sergio.” She might have said it jokingly, a scheme to make him agree, but who in their right mind would say no to Raquel? _

_ He said yes immediately. There was no room for doubts nor second guessing. Andres can call him stupid all he wants, but he would not pass on the opportunity of being there for his best friend on the happiest day of her life—even if it was slowly ripping him apart. _

_ Sergio contemplated his decision for a week, his brother nagging him to back out. “You’re not doing yourself any favor by sending her away. You’re not a martyr, Sergio.” He didn’t know how Andres found out about how he felt for Raquel, but his brother always knew. Andres, however, wasn’t always right. _

_ The moment he saw Raquel in her wedding gown, however, he found his answer. Words dissipated from his tongue and all forms of cognition failed him as she walked in the little room they were supposed to wait in as the wedding entourage marched to Pachelbel. Beautiful didn’t even cover how she looked in her dress. Ethereal. Stunning. Heart arresting. Sergio can gloss over his vocabulary, but it still wouldn't be enough. _

_ “You look beautiful. You’re going to give everyone a heart attack later,” Sergio commented. Raquel smiled shyly before stepping in to give him a hug. They stayed that way for a few moments. _

_ Raquel sniffled. “Thank you for agreeing to this.” _

_ “That’s what friends are for, right? I would have been offended if it wasn’t me.” He joked. Raquel only snuggled closer to him. _

_ The day would come when he would have to let her go. He knew he would always have her by his side, after everything they’ve been through, but there would come a time where they would go separate ways. When she finally says "I do," at the altar, he will be done for. So, Sergio did the only thing he could do right now and wrapped his arm around her waist tighter. If only to keep her a little longer. _

_ Intrusive thoughts filled his mind. Regret wasn't foreign for a man like Sergio, who had spent years and years biting back every opportunity he could get to take his and Raquel's friendship to higher grounds. Of all the regrets that have been hanging at the back of his mind, he could only think of one. If only he wasn't a coward. _

_ He shook the grim feeling away and tried to be cheerful for the woman before her. She looked vulnerable. Maybe that was what weddings do to everyone. Sergio cleared his throat. "Do you already have everything?" _

_ His voice broke Raquel out of her trance. "Yes, Sergio. You’re even more nervous than me." She teased, but the air between them felt heavier. _

_ "It’s not every day that my best friend gets married. I can’t see why I’m the one walking you down the aisle." _

_ Raquel placed her palm on his upper arm. Even with his undershirt and suit jacket, her touch burned. "Because I’d rather you send me away than some relative I’m not even acquaintances with." _

_ He nodded once, satisfied with the answer she gave. “Okay.” _

_ Sergio fidgeted around. He couldn’t keep his hands still and his fingers reached out to what he could touch: his cufflinks, his wristwatch, his eyeglasses. It was her wedding, and yet he’s the one whose nerves had to be calmed down. _

_ “Sergio,” she called out. _

_ He stopped pacing. Sergio opened his mouth, only to find the words stuck in his throat. It took him a while before he found his voice. “Raquel, if you ever find yourself in doubt... Now or when you’re walking down the aisle, just say the word. We’ll go. No looking back." _

_ "Sergio..." she called him out again. Softer this time. _

_ He took a step toward her and placed a hand on her waist. His fingers splayed on the beaded fabric, the texture helped ease the anxiousness that was growing inside of him. "Raquel, I—" Sergio said, breathlessly. She claimed his eyes, her hazel irises staring into his, then onto his lips. Neither moved. Not even to take a breath because the slightest movement will throw them both away. _

_ "Raquel," he repeated. Her eyes returned to capture his. Sergio avoided her gaze, only to fall on her painted lips. _

_ The earth stilled, but he could feel himself drawing nearer. He wanted her to push him away and tell him this shouldn't be happening—especially now. He wanted her to yell at him and force him to leave the cathedral. He wanted her to think that this was a bad idea—the worst thing someone could do minutes before they were supposed to be wed to another person. But God, he wanted her. He wanted her so bad, he couldn't bring himself to move away. _

_ If this was all they had left— _

_ A knock came on the door, pulling them back into reality. He quickly drew in a breath as Raquel quickly shuffled away from him. “Miss Murillo? It’s time.” _

_ Raquel quickly grabbed the bouquet of flowers sitting on the wooden table and fixed her appearance. Not that she needed to. She already looked painfully beautiful. Sergio pulled back, drawing his attention to his tux. He couldn't bear to face her. Of all the days that this could have happened, why now? _

_ A loud knock was heard before the organizer creaked the door open, signaling that in a few minutes they'd walk down the aisle. _

_ Sergio's heart sank. He led her out of the waiting room, his hand hovering a few inches from her skin, careful not to touch her. The four-piece orchestra they had rented started to play a sweet melody as they walked down the center of the cathedral. Her left arm looped around his. Sergio wasn't sure how he would be able to let her go. _

_ In a different world, he would have been the one waiting for her. The one she would lock eyes with as she floated in the perfect white dress. But here he was, next to her, as she walks toward a future with somebody else. The irony felt bitter on his tongue.  _

_ They arrived in front of the altar, her groom's hand extended toward her. Unintentionally, Sergio's grip on her remained adamant. Raquel turned to him and gave him a weak, yet reassuring smile. _

_ She whispered, "Sergio, I'll be happy." _

_ Without a word, he let her go and willed himself to be happy for her. Raquel deserved happiness and nothing less, and he wouldn't be the one to hold it back from her. _

_ As the wedding celebrations moved from the cathedral to a five-star hotel nearby, Sergio drowned his sorrows in alcohol. He never resorted to drinking, but this was an exception. The alcohol numbed the pain he felt as their eyes met just before he left the venue. Her eyes pleaded, “Stay.”  _

_ He almost did. _

_ Stupid, his brother called him. Maybe Andres was right after all.  _

* * *

The lace trimmings and beaded details on Raquel's dress reminded her of her very own wedding gown. It was a simple Versace dress and was in a light tan shade, flitting to the ground, but the event they were in did not fail to make her reminisce the time when she walked down that aisle herself. It was ironic how her wedding felt like eons ago, but the man who accompanied her down the aisle was still the same man who stood beside her today.

Alex, the bride, looked ethereal. As soon as the cathedral doors were opened to reveal a young woman in a long, white dress, the quartet started to play Pachelbel's famous canon. Everyone in the church stood up, paying all their attention to the bride, but her cousin's gaze was only fixed on one person—her groom waiting for her.

Raquel brushed her fingers against his as the bride met with her groom at the altar. Sergio turned to look at her and gave her a meaningful smile. For the rest of the ceremony, her hands were cradled in his.

Weddings always made her mom vulnerable. If there was one story she loved telling Raquel and her sister, it would be her own wedding day. It was held in a small chapel, their parents' guests were a handful of family and the closest of friends. The reception followed in their small apartment, with only a simple paella and beverage to feed their guests.

A simple celebration, but a celebration of love indeed. Every time her mother would reiterate that story, she would always recite the vows she made to her father. Her mom would recite it in an exaggerated way that would always make Raquel and Laura laugh, but as she grew older, the meaning of the words became heavier. Raquel had only recited those words once, but it will always be etched at the back of her mind. To hear those words again was a sweet experience.

Raquel felt a tug on her hand just before her cousin's groom declared his vows. She turned to her right and found Sergio, drinking her in. He gave her a shy smile as if they weren't talking about their future together earlier.

He leaned closer to her. "To have and to hold." A smile broke out on her face, her vision suddenly blurring from the tears that threatened to spill from her eyes. If only her stomach could do a somersault, she would have the whole circus in her now. At a loss for words, she placed a kiss on their intertwined fingers and for a moment, it was only the two of them.

* * *

“Ready to meet them?” Raquel asked as she fixed her appearance before heading out to the reception venue.

The couple rented an old three-story house by the countryside, a good twenty-minute drive away from the cathedral. The area was transformed to fit the rustic theme of the wedding—wooden chairs and tables were splayed on the front yard, yellow lights hanging above them.

“If they’re anything like you, I think I love them already,” Sergio replied and left his car, waiting for his muse to follow suit.

“Come on, you charmer.” She looped her arm in his, and started to walk toward the table they were assigned to. Her sister was already there, but her mother was still nowhere in sight.

“You remember Laura, right?”

Sergio smiled. “Of course.”

Laura reached out across the table and stretched her right hand to Sergio. “It was nice seeing you again. I’m glad both of you decided to brave up. You two were miserable in college, it’s high time you got together.”

Sergio, unable to reply anything coherent, just shook his head lightly. “It was a long time coming.”

Laura stood up and gave her sister a curt hug. “Excuse me, I have to refill this for mama. I’ll let her know you’re here already.”

The older sibling nodded. “We’ll sit by you in a while.”

The actress’ eyes glistened as her sight met with the dessert bar. If there was one thing she would drop everything for at the moment, it was the triple-tiered chocolate fountain at the center of the table. She quickly grabbed Sergio’s hand, who was startled by his fiancée’s sudden movement.

Sergio observed as Raquel filled her bowl with sweets, only to be covered by an even sweeter chocolate fondue. Feeling ashamed for not offering Sergio anything, she stretched out her bowl and fork. He politely refused and settled with grabbing a pastry from the stand.

“Suit yourself.” Raquel shrugged, her sentence barely comprehensible with her face stuffed with sweets and chocolate. A hearty laugh was all she got from Sergio.

“Raquel? Is that you?!” A high pitched voice called out from behind her. It was the bride’s sister, Em. “You’ve grown more beautiful than I last saw you!”

Em and Alex were her favorite cousins from her mother’s side. They lived in Seville, a good 5 hour trip from Madrid, so they only met during summer vacations and Christmas breaks. Nonetheless, family reunions were always interesting when the four of them consolidated.

Raquel was suddenly forced into a hug. “Hi, Em. It’s been years—“

The actress was cut off before she could even say anything. “And who is this handsome gentleman behind you?”

“This is my fiancé, Sergio. Sergio, Em, Em, this is Sergio.”

Raquel could sense that her cousin just might jump him if only Sergio wasn’t emotionally unavailable. She’s never wrong about Em. “It is quite a pleasure to meet you.”

“Likewise.”

Em decided to ignore Raquel, who she has not seen in years, to talk to Sergio. “How are you enjoying the wedding?”

“It’s spectacular. The food is great, and the venue is wonderful.” Her fiancé replied, politely complimenting the wedding.

“Taking notes already?” Em nonchalantly asked. Raquel took a big bite of the cream puff she was holding with that question.

Sergio shrugged. “I think she’d rather do it on the beach.”

“The wedding or the  _ fucking _ ?”

Raquel almost choked on the pastry. She quickly grabbed a glass of water to swallow the big chunk of the sweet delicacy down. “I can hear you, you know that, right?”

Em smiled sweetly at her cousin. There was no remorse present on her face at all. “I must be going now. I’m looking forward to seeing you soon, Sergio!” She turned to move away, but not before she left both Raquel and Sergio something to be flustered about. “Oh, and if you two need to do anything... there’s a kiosk near the bridge, no one uses it but it’s still part of the rental.”

Raquel reached out to Em's shoulders and turned her away. "Okay, you really must go. Sister duties, right? Thanks, Em!"

As if she had dodged a bullet, she heaved a sigh. "Sorry about that."

"Well, that was interesting..." Sergio said with a laugh.

Raquel shrugged. "She’s usually more chaotic than that. I guess your presence tamed her a bit."

"I’m not sure what her normal self would be like."

She shook her head no. "You wouldn’t want to find out."

His voice lowered an octave as he leaned in to whisper. "Do you want to know what I want to find out?"

Raquel raised her brow in curiosity. "Indulge me."

"The little secret kiosk right after the bridge." His breath was against her bare neck.

Feigning scandal, Raquel playfully slapped his upper arm, "Sergio!"

"Come on," he caught her hand and laced his fingers with hers. "I want to see how Marivi is doing. It’s been a while, hasn’t it?"

As soon as the reception ended, the dance floor had been opened. Guests filed from their seats to the open space, moving their bodies to the wild, fitful pop music being played on the speakers. Whilst young couples fornicate the dance floor, the adults remained in their seats, satisfied with cradling a glass of alcohol.

Not one for the party, Sergio sat still on their assigned table. And frankly? Raquel had no interest in leaving his side either, so they remained seated, quietly observing their surroundings with her hand in his.

Her mother was sitting next to her, talking to a distant cousin Raquel has not seen in about half a decade. When they finished, the older woman turned to her and Sergio, an innocent smile on her face. "How did you happen to woo my daughter? It’s been too long, I never thought you two would actually come by..." She trailed off. "Actually, how did my daughter happen to woo you?"

Raquel's eyes widened. "Mama!"

Sergio thought about it for a moment. It wasn't lost on her that whatever his answer now is genuine—a stark contrast to the deception they played months before. "I-It’s because she’s her." He turned to Raquel and gave her a playful wink. "I don’t think I’d be able to escape falling in love with her, she’s too stubborn for that."

"That, I agree." Her mother nodded.

Raquel feigned annoyance. "Now it’s two against one, huh? Should I move over to the next table so I don’t hear the plan you’re scheming?"

"All good things, darling. We’re only saying the truth." Her mother tapped her shoulder in comfort. "How are the wedding plans going?"

Now, that is the aspect of their relationship they still have not touched on. For others, they have been engaged for quite a while now, but it was different from what is happening behind closed doors. Whilst they have hinted at what their future may look like, talking about a wedding is something that may be too early for them.

Sergio played his part perfectly. "Still quite in the early stages. We might get back to it after her movie."

The older woman nodded in understanding. "Ah, yes. Quite understandable. It’s not as if my aging clock isn’t ticking way too fast. If possible, I want to meet my grandchildren before I wilt."

Alarm flashed in Raquel's eyes before she realized her mother was toying with her. "No one is wilting, Mama. Have you been talking to his mom lately? You both said the same thing months ago."

"Of course, Teresa! We talk on the phone, planning how to get our two children together. How is she, by the way?" As her mother directed her question to Sergio, Raquel took it as a cue to leave her mother with her fiance. He seemed to be having a good time anyway.

* * *

"He’s kind to her." Laura came to her side, a cocktail glass on her right hand. 

Raquel turned to where her sister was staring. "Who?"

"Sergio," Laura replied. "To mom."

The older sibling shrugged. "Of course, she literally raised him." 

Just as Sergio’s mother treated Raquel as her own, the same goes for Sergio. While his visits to her house were less frequent, as Raquel preferred to spend her free time in the Marquina residence, her mother had always found Sergio’s company a delight. A break from all the shrilling ladies in the house, she used to say. 

Her sister shook her head. "It’s different now. Alberto treated her like... like she’s physically present, but... just that."

"I see," she nodded in understanding. "He didn’t make an effort to get to know mama. Or anyone in the family..."

"Snuck out as early as possible in family dinners." Laura lightly snorted. She had never been a fan of her ex-husband. "Look at Sergio, he enjoys her company. And from what I saw growing up, he’s not exactly the sociable type."

"Again, it’s because he grew up with Mama," Raquel repeated. "He’s comfortable with her."

"What I’m saying is,” her younger sister stressed, “he’s good for you. And it shows even if he’s not with you physically."

A small smile broke out on her face. "He is. He really is."

"You seem happy," Laura commented.

It took her a while to respond before nodding in agreement. "I am. How have you been?"

"Busy," Her sister shrugged. "But work has to be done."

“I’m proud of you, did you know that?” Raquel glanced sideways at her sister who still seemed to be engrossed at the sight of their mother with Sergio.

Laura took a sip of her drink and glanced back. She shook her head. “We weren’t exactly known for being heart-to-heart, so no.”

Raquel placed a hand on top of hers. Affection was foreign territory for both of them. Growing up, they got into frequent fights that often stressed their mother out. When they finally broke out of their adolescent stages, it was already too late for them—settling with the occasional birthday and holiday greetings. “Well, now you do.”

“Thanks, big sis. I’m happy for you too.”

* * *

"I like it better when you don't have your heels on," Sergio commented as they strolled in the secluded area of the venue, unconsciously following Em's directions earlier. His remark earned him a glare from Raquel, who was too preoccupied making sure she won't trip with her floor-length gown and heeled footwear.

They stopped at the entrance of the unused kiosk, their only light came from the moonlight and the faint strobes of light from the wedding venue. Sergio leaned on the door frame, keenly observing Raquel who examined the building. The circular structure and glass windows reminded Raquel of her favorite movie from when she was younger, only she wasn't sixteen turning seventeen. She surely felt like a younger, however, more alive, more hopeful. Sometimes, it makes her wonder when this feeling would die down--not that she ever wanted to.

His arms wrapped around her waist from behind. "When you hug me, you fit perfectly between my chest and my arms." His hot breath on her neck made her skin shiver. She smiled at the sensation.

She felt herself leaning toward Sergio. "There's a but in that..."

The low chuckle she received made her heart leap. "But when you have them on, it's easier for me to do this." His fingers softly brushed her hair away from her right shoulder, exposing her neck to his lips. Desperate for his touch, Raquel leaned her head to the left, permitting him to whatever he planned to do.

No pretense was made. He placed a kiss on the blade of her shoulders.

Then another one.

And another one.

And another one until it reached the crook of her neck, eliciting a soft whimper from her.

"Then you just have to pick what matters more." She replied, short of breath. Her left hand snaked to his hair, slightly tugging them. Her action evoked a low grunt from him. "Sergio..."

Sergio hummed against her skin. "What?"

"People might see us from the house. Behave." They both laughed softly as he rested his forehead on her shoulders. Settling with their current predicament, he wrapped his arms around her waist tighter, pulling her closer to him.

"Later, then." She elbowed him softly, earning her a fake, resounding "ouch!" from Sergio.

"Thank you for coming with me here today." Raquel faced him and placed a palm on his cheek.

"Hey, you were the one who asked me to be your date. But no worries, I had a good time."

Raquel feigned shock. "I did? I can’t seem to recall that."

Suppressing a grin, Sergio played along. "Would you want me to remind you?"

"No, but I’d rather hear a made-up story of how you happened to make stubborn me fall in love with you. What exactly did you tell my mother after I left you with her?"

"Wouldn’t you want to know?" He teased. Her only response was a huff and the roll of her eyes. His voice turned softer when he spoke again. "But did you? Fall in love?"

"Irrevocably so," Raquel admitted.

She could see that he was about to make a retort to her answer but failed to do so. Something shifted in the air between them, and all she could see was him. It took them a while before someone broke the ice.

"I don’t know what I did to deserve you. Maybe I haven’t run out of luck after all." She placed her hands on his chest, before tugging his lapels to pull him closer. Raquel kissed him senseless, burying her hands in his hair. They let themselves get lost in each other’s orbits—and that’s how they stayed.

Bliss was all they felt. Sweet, domesticated bliss. At that moment, everything around them disappeared. Not even the phone calls and hundreds of text messages from the last person she'd ever want to hear from waiting for her to open could break the trance they were in. Not even Agata's alarmed tone in her voice mails could revert her back from the high she felt when she was with Sergio. 

If only Raquel could take up Sergio's offer to leave this city and start anew, she would. But, cowardice isn't something she resorted to. Tomorrow, she'll face whatever the hell her ex-husband wanted from her, but for tonight, it was them, and only them.


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Your comments have been my support system for the past days (and who are we kidding, the past months). I could write 5,000-word chapters and I would still struggle with searching for words that would amount to how grateful I am for you guys. Anyway, please enjoy this chapter! 
> 
> TRIGGER WARNING: mentions of abuse

**_Monday, September 30_ **

**_TRANSCRIPTION OF RAQUEL MURILLO'S TELEVISION INTERVIEW WITH UN NUEVO DIA_ **

**_INTERVIEWER: A woman in an industry full of men. What is it like?_ **

_ MURILLO: I'll admit it's not the easiest feat, but the times are changing. Women have started to climb to director and producer positions... all-women productions are beginning to flourish. These changes are not recent, and women in the media have been trying to push it forward for years and years, and even then, there is still a large disparity between men and women in the industry. But we moved from only having roles of trophy wives and sexual objects to more complex, empowering ones, so we're hopeful. _

**_INTERVIEWER: You starred in an award-winning short film produced by an all-women production. Was there any difference?_ **

_ MURILLO: Tons. Of course, the process of filmmaking was still rigorous. The writers and directors were as brutal as any other writers and directors I've worked with, but the female narratives were better represented and forwarded. Rarely do you see a film where the woman is not demeaned into a sexual object. All the characters have more depth, [and] they felt more humane. That made all the difference. The director even gave all the actors a rundown of how it would look like on screen and asked for our approval to make sure that there were no cases of the male gaze, whatsoever. _

**_INTERVIEWER: You have been present in several feminist demonstrations. Tell us about it._ **

_ MURILLO: A close friend used to nag me to join rallies. It took me a while to agree, but I'm glad I did. It certainly taught me more about my role as a woman and what could still be changed—what could be better for us. I met a lot of great women along the way, [and] heard their stories. It's a collective and I'm really enjoying it. _

* * *

_ Breathe. _

_ Slowly. _

_ Breathe slowly, damn it! _

Raquel's ragged heartbeat and unsteady breathing failed to resonate with the low hum of the cab she was currently in. The vehicle stopped in front of an old building five minutes ago and the driver was kind and patient enough to not kick her out. Her eyes bore into the establishment's entryway, already looking for a way out.

"How much?" She croaked out, fishing a wad of euros from her wallet. The cab driver was about to speak when she waved him off and handed him twice more than what was displayed on the meter. That was the least Raquel could do after holding him off.

It took her a few more minutes to find the courage to step out. Cognition failed to aid Raquel when she decided to finally meet up with Alberto and when her senses came back to her, it was already too late. So, it was now or never. She wasn't the bravest person on the planet, but she chose the former.

The gate creaked as she pushed open the entrance to the building. The metal felt cold on her hands. The falling of her heeled boots reverberated across the dark hallway which led to an empty area. There stood the bane of her existence—Alberto, sitting cross-legged on a chair, his feet propped on the mismatched table. 

"I must say, I never thought you'd show up." Alberto stood up from where he sat, the shrill of the metal echoing in what seemed to be an old warehouse. "Still naive, I guess."

The place was lifeless. Nothing, save for the table, was inside the stark building. Standing in one of Madrid's less busy streets, it didn't grab too much attention to a non-observant eye. Her former cop instincts told her that the place could have been used for drugs and other illegal substances, but her mind wasn't keen on investigating anything else right now.

"What the fuck do you want?"

"No foreplay?" It took Raquel every bit of the patience left in her body to not render him unconscious on the spot. If he ever tries anything on her, the bottle of pepper spray in her bag and the emergency option on her phone was waiting for her disposal.

"You're a pig." She spat out. "What do you want?"

Alberto decided to ignore her. "How are you?" She doesn't dignify him with a response. Her eyes already did that for her—throwing a thousand daggers on his way. "At least sit, Raquel. I'm not going to do anything to you."

Alarm bells rang in her subconscious mind, but she couldn't bring herself to move. Time will come when she would have to face him again; Raquel just has to decide if it was sooner or later. She clenched her thumbs in her fist as she settled on the former.

"You've been really active in those feminist movements recently. Laura finally rubbing off on you?" She doesn't answer him. He liked using her family as bait for his benefit. "Nevermind, you're being silent anyway. I prefer you that way."

Laura had been involved in one of the country's most active feminist associations, organizing demonstrations and lobbying policies and laws that would ensure and protect women. Much as she had been very vocal on her principles, Laura had also been living low and away from the limelight that inevitably came with her sister being one of the country's most renowned actresses.

"If you've set a meeting just to insult me, you can do that in front of my lawyer." Raquel grabbed her bag from the table and moved her chair back.

He placed a hand on her forearm. No force has been present, but Raquel yanked her arm involuntarily. Alberto did not even show even the slightest drop of remorse. "I have a proposition for you. You stay silent and withdraw the case."

Her breath hitched. No one except for Agata, Sergio, and her lawyer knew about the case against Alberto that they were trying to build. "How did you—" He met her gaze with a knowing look. One that mocked her for not piecing together that he had a network of people working for him.

She held her head high and cocked an eyebrow for good measure. "How much do you plan on buying my silence?"

"There is no case yet. This is not a settlement meeting." Alberto said matter-of-factly. He slid a thick folder toward her and scoffed.

Reluctantly, she opened the folder, her fingers playing at the edges of its stiff material. She sent him a look before flipping it open, and various photos of her and Sergio together had been laid out. Paparazzi photos were nothing new to her. What made her do a double-take, however, was the familiar timetable clipped to the folder, right behind the stack of photos.

_ He knew _ .

Fear struck in her eyes as she realized what he could do with this information. It could ruin her.

Amusement filled Alberto as he realized that Raquel was close to cowering in fear. "I'm actually quite convinced at first. But then again, he's been moping around you for so long, I actually pity the guy."

Raquel seethed. "Don't bring Sergio into this. What we have is—"

"What? Real?" He spat. "The time table says otherwise. Funny, though. It doesn't say when you're supposed to break up. You never were one to resort to PR stunts. Offers must be quite low nowadays? Desperate times really must call for desperate measures."

"Just tell me what you fucking want and leave me alone!"

"I just told you.” He sighed in annoyance. “Everyone's been wondering why the great Raquel Murillo is suddenly an active figure in your so-called feminist movement."

"You're paranoid." A small smirk played on Raquel's mouth. She had some leverage after all. "You're scared that I will fucking tell the whole world what you did? That's all on you."

He ignored the jab. "Drop the case or I'll release this out into the wild. The media's eyes are on you, Raquel. They're going to prey on every information about this."

She took a last glance at the photos before closing the folder and thrusting it back at him. "This is not a proposition. This is blackmail."

"It is a proposition," Alberto pointed out. "I get what I want and you get to continue playing house with that best friend of yours."

"And what? Continue living in the hell you put me through every day?"

_ Deep breaths, Raquel. You're an actress. This is a performance. _

"Don't be so dramatic, Raquel. This," Alberto produced another folder, "is blackmail." 

The new folder was thinner in size, but Raquel somehow knew that it would scathe her better than the first one. Her instincts were right. It contained private, undisclosed information about her father and his possible involvement in an underground operation that ended them in sky-high debt. While her job as an actress had successfully paid off every single cent, it tore their family apart—separating her parents and driving Raquel and her sister further apart.

In recent years, as her mother developed dementia, her mother gradually forgot her husband's illegal activity and only their sweet memories together had been retained. It had been an unspoken rule between Raquel and Laura to not speak of their father ever again.

But this...  _ this _ would break her mother.

"This is confidential information. Where the fuck did you get this?"

"Are you really asking me how to step-by-step get into this country's information system? I thought they taught you that in cop school?"

She felt backed into a corner. "You weren’t supposed to get a hold of this."

"And yet, I have a whole folder." He said smugly. "Drop the case and this," he held up the folder with her and Sergio's photos, "won't go out to the media, and this," he pointed to her father's folder, "won't show up on your mother's doorsteps. Your call.”

All she saw was red. 

"I've had enough of your bullshit and mind games, Alberto. You made my life a living hell and I am not giving in to any of your manipulations and yield to silence once again. So don’t try to bend the situation and crucify me when this case wouldn’t have existed in the first place if it weren’t for you. Don’t pin this on me.

"Here's what you're going to do. When the police show up on your door, whether to shove a protective order or to send you to jail, you will show no restraint." She quickly grabbed her belongings and started walking away. He does not get to make a fool out of her.

He shrugged, unfazed by her speech. It only agitated her further. “I’ll know your answer in a few days, Raquel.”

She stopped in her tracks. “This is a woman’s world too, Alberto. Grow the fuck up.” She snarled and walked away. Raquel did not spare him a second glance, slamming the backdoor of the warehouse on her way out.

When the high of her rage finally lulled, Raquel felt numb.

The consolidation of anxiousness, anger, and fear overwhelmed her. Shallow breaths escaped her lungs and all Raquel could pray for was that she makes it back home safely. Sunlight hit her face and wisps of cool air danced on her blouse as she stepped outside the old building. Her willpower had been drained to its final drops. It took her ten minutes before she was able to process everything.

Emotions overpower rationality. Years of training to be a negotiator, and this has been one of the only things she took with her. Her outburst earlier was anything but rational. Uncontrollable emotions clouded her thoughts earlier, rendering her paralyzed as she listened to her ex-husband make threats against the people she cared deeply about. He knows that it's the only thing to get under her skin.

The actress made it to the cab before she was overcome with emotions. For the first time, however, the reason for her tears wasn't Alberto nor his manipulative schemes. It was for Sergio. She feared for his life—if Alberto had been able to hurt her, his wife at that time, then Sergio was not safe from the spouts of a violent person. She'd seen it happen before, and she won't allow Sergio to be his next victim.

While the outcome of their game of pretend had been both her anchor and what pulled her out of the waters, bringing Sergio into a battle she needed to fight for herself had been a mistake. He'd never let her fight this herself. She's grateful for him, truly—but she'll never learn how to face her ghosts if there is someone warning her every step of the way.

She muttered silent prayers to the air on the ride home.

* * *

The bite mark on the edge of her left thumb sunk deeper with every ring that her agent refused to pick up on. Her right foot tapped a syncopated beat—a jazz rhythm on its own accord. Raquel's patience was wearing thin and with every passing second, she could feel herself losing her mind.

On the fifth ring of her third call, Agata picked up. "Hey, I got held up in a meeting. What’s up?"

Raquel paused for a second, not knowing how to ease this into her. The actress realized that she had acted impulsively today. Maybe she shouldn't have gone to see him after all. She breathed in and muttered the only words she could convey. "He knows."

"You met up with him?"

Raquel repeated, frantic this time. "He fucking knows. How?!"

"Calm down, Raquel. We’ll find a way around this. Have you contacted Angela?" She found herself nodding, taking her manager's advice to call her lawyer.

"I'm going to leave a message after this call. He has access to my emails, Agata. I feel paralyzed." Her voice shook uncontrollably, Raquel had to lean onto the kitchen bar counter for support. When Agata didn't reply, she tried to recall what happened earlier. "He used Sergio and my family to blackmail me."

"That bastard!" Her agent seethed. "Shit, Raquel, are you okay?"

She brought her palm onto her face, sighing heavily. "I-I’m trying to be. The information he showed me, those were confidential. He could only have gotten them through illegal means. That alone could get him arrested."

"Do you think he'll release them?"

For the first time in weeks, she felt defeated. With her busy schedule and all the time she spent with Sergio, she forgot to look past their bubble. Now, the very thing that threatened her safety was hurdling toward her and she's struggling to look for a way to get past it. An exit sign with bright led lights would be very helpful now. "I don't know. I'm not sure of anything anymore."

"I’m sorry," Agata apologized.

"For what?"

"This has been my idea in the first place."

Raquel shrugged. "He would have found another way to blackmail me."

Alberto would have found a different way to buy her silence. It wasn't the first time. He used to shower her with new dresses, designer bags, exquisite flowers, chocolates, even trips to France—anything to make her feel loved after bastardizing her the night before. She fell for it in the beginning, thinking that it was an act of penance until it became more frequent. Only then did she realize that it was more of a ticket--leverage for what he was about to do instead of repentance for what he had done.

"Still."

"It’s okay, Agata."

"I’ll be here if you need anything," Agata reassured her.

"Do you trust me with my decisions?" Even the actress herself doubted her ability to make smart decisions, but ever since she had stepped inside the cab, there was a thought that kept intruding—like an alarm of some sort that kept on ringing every ten minutes.

"This is your life, Raquel. I'll support you." Her manager melodically spoke until she halted. The same idea must have popped in her mind. "Is this about—?"

Raquel staggered. "I-I'm not sure y-yet."

"Well," She could just imagine Agata and her comforting hug, "whatever you decide on, you have my back. If anything goes wrong, PR is ready for you."

It was one thing for that certain idea to invade her thoughts, it was another for someone to support it. Fear ate her inside. This might be the most foolish idea she'd had in years.

* * *

Raquel dragged her feet until she reached Sergio's apartment. There hasn't been anything on her mind except for Alberto's threats. The actress was plain grateful that she wasn't needed in the studio today save for a few photoshoots for their promotional paraphernalia. 

She stalled, wondering if he wanted to see her, but the three missed calls on her phone was enough proof that he did. Intrusive thoughts clouded her mind, leaving her in unrest. She knocked thrice and willed herself to forget the week's earlier events.

Sergio opened the door, his face lighting up at the sight of her. It pained Raquel to see him look so beautiful in a smart casual attire: the sleeves of his white shirt rolled to his sleeves paired with the charcoal-colored necktie that he knew would drive her mad. The creases on his forehead dissipated as he drank her in.

"Hey," Sergio greeted softly, a smile reaching his perfect brown eyes. "I didn't know when you were going to show up, you weren't answering your phone."

She grimaced, "Sorry."

"I figured you were busy." He said assuringly. "Do you still want to go out?"

"Rain check?" The actress said sheepishly. "I'm kind of tired."

Sensing that she wasn't feeling well, Sergio stepped in to pull her into a hug. Her hands snaked to his waist before locking them on his back, pulling him closer. Raquel nestled her head on the crook of his neck, intently feeling the warmth of his skin. She felt him place a kiss on his forehead.

"Are you okay?" He murmured against her hair.

Reluctantly, she nodded. "I just want to stay in. Is that alright?"

She felt him smile. "Movie night?" He suggested.

"I'm picking what we watch." His only response was a laugh, already settling with the thought of watching another of her fosse musicals or romantic comedies.

The two settled on the couch, not even bothering to change into more comfortable clothes. "It's still a date," Raquel stalled Sergio earlier when he was about to loosen his tie. So, without any pretense, they plopped on his leather furniture, a bowl of popcorn on her lap and a glass of wine on her right hand. Raquel excitedly pressed 'play' on the remote, but both knew that the film would, sooner or later, be forgotten.

Their unspoken hypothesis was deemed correct when not even twenty minutes in, Raquel placed the empty bowl on his coffee table next to her unfinished glass of wine. She turned to her left, her fingers carding through his hair.

He smiled at her display of affection. "What were you up to today?"

“Not much. Missed me?” She teased.

“I always miss you.” He turned to her as he laughed, not expecting the look on her face. The atmosphere in his living room changed.

Color rushed to her face. “Sergio,” she called out. His eyes bore into hers, shifting between her eyes and lips. Inches felt like miles away as she grew impatient. Patience was not Raquel's strongest suit. It had been in the past, but all she wanted at the moment was the man sitting in front of her. 

Wasting no time, she placed her lips on his, stealing his mouth before he could even take a breath. Warm palms snaked on her back, trailing up to her neck where he pulled her closer. Shifting around, she moved their bodies until her knees pinned both sides of his legs, straddling him underneath her. He grunted in response to their centers gyrating each other. His teeth nipped at her bottom lip, eliciting a sexual sound for her throat, before delving her mouth with his tongue.

Confidence washed over Raquel as her hands traveled across his body—her nails lightly scratched the back of his neck, causing him to shiver. Then, to the soft curls she certainly enjoyed pulling in their heated moments. Then, to the lapels of his shirt, where her fingers slowly crawled down to the knot of his charcoal tie. Their hands met as Raquel pulled the tie off his shirt.

Devilish hands roamed around her body like there was no tomorrow. What started on her hips now journeyed across the skin that was revealed by her shirt. It went further down her back, grabbing her as he pulled her closer to him. Not that Raquel was going anywhere. She was well too lost in his kisses to think about leaving now. His hand settled underneath her shirt, his long, talented fingers a few inches away from her breasts.

“Raquel,” He spoke with uneven breath as she started to frantically unbutton his shirt, her fingers almost slipping as she did so. His hand brushed away the curtain of hair that blocked her face from him. “Baby, why the rush?”

She perched at the endearment. “Nothing,” Raquel shook her head. At this point, she didn’t know if she was convincing herself or Sergio—he was far too smart to believe her little act. If he did, he did a good job distracting her. “Just touch me.” Her eyes gazed into his, pleading. “Please.” Sergio obliged, diving back into her.

He tugged at the hem of her shirt, slowly pulling the white material from her skin, and discarded it somewhere in the apartment. Sergio drew in a sharp breath as he drank her form in. He’d probably seen her a hundred times with little clothes on, but he still gapes at her as if it was their first time all over again. Venus has got nothing on her. He cupped one breast with his palm, his thumb and forefinger flitting over her peak. The rugged feel of the lace material and his fingers drove her mad.

Traces of them filled the room. The white blouse she previously wore lay across the wooden floor next to the dark material of his tie. Her maroon lace bra discarded somewhere between his living room and the kitchen bar counter, where he placed her. Sergio stepped in between her legs, coaxing them to spread open. Raquel pulled him by his lapels and fused their mouths once again, her fingers picking up on the task she failed to deliver earlier, and unbuttoned his shirt.

He shrugged the white material off as her nails raked across his chest, then to his shoulders. Raquel peppered kisses on every mark on his skin—sketching a constellation of some sort. Their eyes meet and a mixture of two pairs of honey-colored irises and desire is concocted. Finally gaining courage, she brings his fingers on the waistband of her jeans.

It took them longer than expected to shimmy her way out of the sturdy denim. “Why are your jeans too hard to remove?” Sergio asked, frustration taking over right before the last inch of her bottoms scraped against her ankle. Her laughter filled the room. In normal situations, he would have laughed along with her, but the sound of her only left him undeniably aroused.

Raquel shifted her position, tugging Sergio by his palm to put him back to his previous place. “This is why I wear dresses.” She whispered as he collected a fistful of her tresses and tugged them softly, baring her neck to him. Within seconds, his mouth was on her throat.

Two fingers traipsed on her skin from her knee, slowly climbing up to her inner thigh. Raquel was blissfully aware of how close his fingers are to her sex, inwardly sighing in pleasure and annoyance when he slides them back to her knee again. He repeated the action, once, twice, before she had enough.

“Stop teasing.” She was hoping her voice came out firm, but it was raspy, broken, and sounded like she just came out of a shouting match.

“As my woman wishes,” Sergio murmured on her skin. He used his two fingers to push the fabric aside as he delved into her, his other hand preoccupied with her breasts. Two talented fingers moved inside her, their movements quickening as they accompanied her hurried breaths. Her back arched as he dove deeper, Raquel's telltale of her admission. Soft whimpers turned to deafening moans as she was brought to her summit. He covers her mouth with his in an attempt to tame down her noises.

"The neighbors might hear," Sergio muttered against her lips. Her laughter was halted by her sudden arrival, her caramel eyes moving to the back of her head. He gave her a moment to recover, silently peppering her shoulders with soft, sweet kisses.

As soon as Raquel regained her senses, her fingers took on their second task: his pants. She fumbled on his belt, successfully unbuckling it within a matter of seconds. A resolving sound of the metal clanking on the floor was heard in the apartment.

Sergio stalled her. "Not here."

He pulled her to him, wrapping his arms around her waist to support her weight as he carried her to his bedroom. They passed by a window, the soft light of the kitchen reflecting their form. There was something in the way they looked that made her feral—her ankles locked together as she’s straddled against his waist, her breasts pressed against his chest as he kissed her throat, leaving marks she hoped wouldn’t fade away.

They pad across the apartment until they reach his bedroom door. Sergio switched them around, her back to the door, as he pushed her to shroud them in privacy. The attempt to place her softly on the bed failed as a thud was heard just as they plopped on the mattress, their legs entangled with one another.

Uncontrollable laughter erupts from her. "Take your fucking pants off," Raquel whispered, a fusion of giggles and an attempted seductive voice was present in her tone. He joined her in laughter as he slowly stripped off her drenched underwear. Sergio winked as he stuffed them inside his pants before discarding the pair.

"Your impatience is unbecoming," Sergio retorted but did as Raquel commanded. He crawled back on the bed, hovering over her. Their eyes meet and something shifts once again—the need to rush disappeared. He grinned softly at her, nuzzling his nose against hers seeking to kiss her. Her only response was a shy smile and a sigh of content as she pressed her mouth to her favorite mark on his shoulder.

He planted a kiss on her forehead. "Talk to me."

She chortled. "During sex?"

"There's nothing better than baring your secrets when you're naked." Sergio retorted, planting a kiss on her mouth. Raquel could only hum in response. "Hey," he called out again. "What is it?"

Raquel shook her head. "Everything I need is here."

"But?" He supplied.

"No buts. It's a general fact. I don't think I can find it anywhere else." Sergio knows that there was more to what she could profess at the moment, he knows her too well. For some reason, he lets it go. All he could offer was a comforting smile—one that reassured her that he'd follow her anywhere.

Raquel seared his lips with hers, determined to pull the intrusive thoughts out of her mind and replace them with thoughts of him. "Sergio." She pulled away for a moment in an attempt to catch her breath. His gravity pulled him toward her, wanting nothing more but to fuse their mouths together. "I need you."

He entered her in slow movements, gradually picking up at the pace as they settled into one another. Only his guttural responses and her soft moans, paired with the increasing sound of their hips meeting together, were heard in the room. Long, red, scratches adorned his back—her tell that she was greedy for more, along with a broken voice calling out his name that did nothing but heighten his arousal.

Sergio covered her with kisses, seeking to tame her reverberant noises as she moaned against his open mouth. Not long after, she reaches her summit—a toe-curling, sheet clutching, back arching sensation. Softened mewls grew into growling moans as she surrendered into him with her release. He collapsed on top of her, wrapping her small figure closer to his. A soft smile played on each other's mouths.

"Hi." He breathed as he recovered, turning slightly to his side to face her. He doesn't pull out just yet, their position too comfortable for anyone to move.

She marveled at his presence. "Hi yourself."

Her heart was full of love for this man who was nothing but good to her. Albeit the words still hung from her lips, waiting for the moment when her ghosts didn't scare her away anymore, her heart ached for him.

"Sergio." He looked up in response. Worry filled his face as he witnessed the tears forming in her eyes. "Thank you for waiting for me."

He shifted their position to place a kiss on her forehead. "Worth the wait," Sergio murmured against her hair.

That night, Raquel doesn't sleep.

She couldn't, even she forced herself to, intrusive thoughts overpowered her body's fatigue. So, she turns her attention to the figure resting beside her. Sergio is not a heavy sleeper, but for some reason, he always slept better beside Raquel. He's so deep in slumber, he doesn't flinch when Raquel traces her fingertips across his face, dragging it from point to point—his creaseless forehead, his nose, the patches of his beard, and his mouth that she was painfully addicted to.

They've been together for weeks, pretended for months, and have been friends for decades. At this point, she has had him memorized already: his favorite songs, his grocery store routine, how he liked his coffee, tea, and alcohol, what type of writing instruments he liked to use. Even then, Raquel found it a delight that she's still learning new things about him, especially about those that make him tick in their carnal moments.

But that night, she returned to simpler things—his face. 

"I love you," she managed to choke out. It was inaudible; it had been more of a murmured sound than a confession. "I love you so much." 

It surprised her how easy it was to say it, after years of feeling unsafe with those three words. But, she also found that the easier it is for her to be with him, the harder it will be for them when Alberto baits Sergio against Raquel.

Unwillingly, she dragged herself off him, his hand unconsciously seeking her warmth. Raquel grabbed a shirt that was neatly folded on his chair and wrapped it around her, the material reeking of his cologne. Comfort came to her in small ripples.

A tidal sob escaped her lips. Then another. And another, until the tears she willfully held back since she met with Sergio arrived uncontrollably. Her palm covered her mouth in an attempt to silence her cries. She found herself sitting on the floor, his bed frame offering her support. The actress promised herself that she'd keep it together, but that night, she let her tears fall.

Her sobs took far longer to subside than anticipated. The floor felt unstable as she creaked outside his bedroom, peaking into the mess they made in the living room. Her crestfallen eyes fell to the item she was searching for. She quickly grabbed his laptop that had been resting on a divider shelf in his receiving area and kitchen.

The lowlight of the screen hit her irises as she slowly typed out the password—her birthday. It had always been her birth date.  _ _

Guilt and regret felt heavier with every letter she typed on his keyboard. She read it over—twice, thrice, before cementing the grim feeling inside her as she hit send. Her body had been worn out due to the excessive crying she had been making for the past days.

She stared at his computer screen, a photo of the two of them as his background. It was a recent one, taken in one of their earlier "dates". She wallowed in regret as the gravity of her action dawned on her; Raquel had once again sabotaged her happiness—and the only souls she's breaking would be hers and Sergio's.

All she could do was drown her imminent, inevitable heartbreak with alcohol.


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Before you pick up your pitchforks and hunt me down, I just want to say thank you to everyone who is still reading this fic and for the constant support! I love you all! ALSO, I just want to say thank you to Nicole (@witchmurillo on Twitter, Abnegation on AO3) for proofreading this chapter! Thanks, babe! 
> 
> Fair warning, I cried while writing this chapter. So, maybe be ready with a box of tissues or something?

_**Thursday, October 10** _

It took Raquel three whole days before she was able to fabricate her thoughts and muster up the courage to face Sergio after disappearing from his place hours before he woke up. After deleting all traces of her from his computer, she quietly put on her clothes and left a fake note on his bedside table, saying that there was an emergency meeting in her film's production and her presence was mandatory—never mind that it had been a weekend. Scraping the tears off her face, Raquel took in his sleeping form for the last time and left.

He called her five times that day.

The day after their meeting was the hardest. If Raquel would be able to feel anything close to withdrawals, that would be it. She turned her phone and laptop off, not because she didn't want Sergio to contact her, but because she needed to abstain herself from dialing his number.

Loud voices between her two subconsciouses raked in her mind, debating with each other whether what she did had been wise or stupid. Even without internal conflict, Raquel knew that it had been the most stupid action she had ever made. If her former police self could see her right now, she would scoff and call her pathetic.

Raquel barely ate that day, content with a few bites of pastry and a cup of coffee she ordered from the coffee near her apartment complex. She tried catching up on her favorite series, tried reading a book, tried walking Icarus around the block, but none deemed successful in getting Sergio out of her mind. All she could think about was him.

Guilt and him.

That night, Raquel imagined his arms wrapped around her torso, his lips on her forehead whispering that it would be okay. She slept soundly for the first three hours until the nightmares came.

When she woke up the next day, dark circles adorned her sore eyes. She brewed herself tea to calm her down, a change from her usual black coffee. Her dreams featured Sergio being tracked down by Alberto for trying to save her. The fear in his eyes was something she would never forget, even if it had only been a dream.

Waves of high-pitched sounds came as notifications washed over her phone the moment she opened the device. True enough, most of them were from Sergio and her friends. Alicia threatened to kick down her door if she didn't reply within the day, Tokio tried to lure her to a night of dancing if she showed her ass up, and Monica simply asked how she was and that if she wanted to talk she'd be a call away. She scrolled past through their messages, unwilling to reply to anyone yet, but she sent an "I'm okay," text to the three girls just to stop them from worrying.

It took her a few minutes of internal debate before opening Sergio's thread of messages.

**"Hey beautiful, I saw your note. I hope you have a good day."**

**"How was your day? Is everything okay at the production? I know you've been tired yesterday, so please rest."**

**"Why aren't you answering your calls? Did you forget to charge your phone again? Tsk tsk."**

**"I was going to visit you but Andres had an emergency and it was already too late when we finished. Maybe I'll drop by soon? Please call me back."**

**"Are we okay? I can't help but feel that you're avoiding me."**

She scrolled past a few more, but it had been a blur of green speech bubbles and white text. Raquel also found out that he called thrice the day before. After a few minutes of typing and hitting the backspace, she finally settled with a generic excuse.

**"I'm sorry, I had gone down with the flu and was instructed to go on bed rest. I'm feeling better now."**

Only a few minutes had passed before his reply came.

**"Oh. Do you need assistance? I can go there if you'd like."**

She wanted nothing more than for him to come over.

"I'd rather you not, I don't want you catching a cold. Thank you for offering, anyway."

 _Please insist._ Raquel declined his offer, but she knew that if he insisted, she would yield. _Please, insist._

**"Okay. Don't forget your meds and water. I'll call you later?"**

She didn't even bother replying or answering his call that came a few hours later.

Three days after their last meeting, Raquel received an email from one of Alberto's cronies. "What's the verdict?", it said, but she knew what it had meant. Before her ex-husband could tip anything to the media, she had already been on her feet, on her way to Sergio's.

The brand of the heeled boots she wore prided itself in being lightweight, yet the closer she walked toward his door, the heavier it seemed to become. Raquel knocked curtly on the door.

"Raquel," Sergio greeted her with a breathy voice. He had not been expecting her at all.

"Hey," was all she could reply.

The devilish grin he passed on to her twisted knives in her stomach. He looked so beautiful, it pained her to see him smiling, knowing well that she'd be leaving his apartment later with only a memory of that grin. It pained her that no matter how much she wanted to pull him into a kiss, she had been backed into a corner, and all that she's doing now is trying to survive while protecting everyone involved. What pained her the most was that as payment for her survival, she might be hurting Sergio in a way he will not understand.

He was nothing but good to her and now she's a few words away to cause him pain. The smile on his face was too beautiful, she almost retreated.

"Can I come in?" Raquel kept her eyes glued to the ground, trying to find something interesting in the wooden floorboard of Sergio's apartment.

He opened the door wider, "Sure." Anxiousness had already crept in his voice.

A cold breeze wrapped her body as she entered his unit, and she paused for a moment to think if it was from the air conditioning, or from the way she acted in front of him. He marched to the kitchen, grabbing two glasses. "Coffee? Water?" He offered, ever the gentleman.

Raquel shook her head, "You don't need to be too hospitable. Water would suffice."

Neither talked and only the clinking sounds of the glass and pouring of liquid were heard. Raquel refused to sit down. If things go as she estimated it to be, she'd be hailing a cab outside within a few minutes. Rip the band-aid off, as people said.

Sergio returned with a glass of whiskey on the rocks. She turned to him, cocking an eyebrow. "You look like you need a glass."

Who was she to refuse? Alcohol is exactly what they both need. "Thanks."

"It feels like we haven't seen each other in months. Are you feeling okay now?"

"Of course." She nodded quickly, before changing the topic. "How is work?"

Shrugging his shoulders, he took a seat on the couch. Raquel tentatively followed suit. "Stressful as always. Interestingly enough, I received a letter yesterday from..." As Raquel realized that what he received, she willed herself to focus on something else. Like the melting ice on her drink, making the color of the liquid paler than it had been before. If Sergio had trailed off or she had successfully tuned him out, she didn't know.

"Can I talk to you?" Raquel inquired the same time Sergio had said: "Can I ask you something?"

Smiling nervously, she offered, "Do you want to go first?"

Sergio shook his head no. "It's alright, mine can wait."

And wait they did. Sergio, waiting for the woman before him to talk about the thoughts that were clearly eating her alive for days—weeks now. Raquel waited for the courage to arrive, the guilty feeling weighing heavier and heavier every second that passed. There were too many things that they needed to talk about, and frankly, she's slowly losing all coherent thoughts the longer they stayed on her mind.

Raquel didn’t have the faintest idea if what she had done and what she was about to do was right. She hoped it was, but cowardice engulfed Raquel and the only movement she could manage was to open her mouth only to close it again as words failed to form on her lips.

Sergio muttered a soft "are we okay?" on top of her small voice that mustered, "We should call this off."

He stopped. "Come again?

"I think..." She eased, "We should call it off. The engagement. The ruse," her voice became softer, almost inaudible. "Us."

He nodded in disbelief and plopped his back on the couch, avoiding her gaze. "Well, that answers my question." Sergio looked deep in thought, probably thinking of all the reasons why she had suddenly dropped the bomb on them when they barely got out of their "honeymoon phase". Just the vision of him being confused pained Raquel.

More when he whispered, "Why?" She remained silent so he repeats. "Why?

Swallowing the fear that had tied her tongue to her throat, she settled with the most generic excuse she could muster. "We’re not working anymore."

"Of all the things in my life, we are the only thing that worked perfectly, Raquel."

The actress tried hard to avoid his piercing gaze, knowing well that once their eyes meet, she'd be trapped in him. So, she fixated her pupils everywhere, except for Sergio. "Maybe for you. I don’t fit in your world. You don’t fit in mine."

He scoffed in disbelief. "For such a good actress, this is your worst act." She looked at him and underneath his baffled look was a prayer that pleaded _please tell me it was a joke._

Raquel deflected but pushed on. "I just—all I do is pretend to be someone else. I get paid to be someone else. I need time and space where I don’t have to fall under any pretense. I already got the job, Sergio. That was the reason why we agreed to this in the first place, right?"

Sergio furrowed his eyebrows. God, if she could only kiss the confusion away from his face. “We stayed because we were something more, Raquel. I thought that one was clear.”

She staggered and treated the words like any other script she had to perform. The only difference was her heart wasn’t on the line. “To you, it was. For me, it wasn’t. I thought being with you would be easy, but I can’t force something that isn’t there.”

“What are you saying? You lied to me?”

The actress challenged him. “Wasn’t that the point of everything? To pretend that we were something more? Or did you seem to forget that too?”

Sergio gritted his teeth, anger starting to seeth from him. "I don’t believe you one bit. You’re acting a bit rash."

Raquel snarled. "I am not rash!"

"Then what do you call this? What do you call us?" He pointed at her with his thumb on top of his enclosed fists. "We were okay the other day, Raquel!" She held his gaze but didn't say anything. "What was all that then?!" Sergio pushed further, his voice starting to break.

She had never seen him this angry before, not even when they had their petty fights in college. Not even when his brother seemed to overstep his boundaries before. Seeing him like this broke Raquel. Not because he was enraged with her, no—but because she knew he was hurting and was going to get hurt, because of her.

All she wanted now is to curl up on her bed, cry, and drown herself in alcohol and cigarettes, but right now, she held her tears back. "Just take the job." She muttered, already regretting the words as they escaped her lips.

"What?" Sergio stuttered, "You knew I turned it down—"

Raquel deflected, her tone, stance, and pride along with it. "Take the job."

It didn't take long for Sergio to understand what she had just unfolded. "It was you. They sent me a welcome email yesterday."

In the days between her meeting with Alberto and her night with Sergio, Raquel hadn't been thinking straight—there were simply too many things on her mind at once. The thought of luring him out of the country with a job she knew he discreetly wanted crossed her mind once, but she never thought of acting upon it.

It wasn't until she was sitting face-to-face with his computer that she impulsively decided to go through with it. Raquel went through his emails and looked for the job offering from Berlin. After reading a few of his sent messages, she felt rather confident in mimicking his writing style. Raquel pretended to be Sergio and sent an email to the university's administration that he was accepting the job and would like to start as soon as possible.

Her fingers were flying on his keyboard so quickly, she didn't have time to stop and think of her actions. It was after she had sent and deleted all traces of her deed on his computer that the regret started to fill in—like a tidal wave crashing onto a rock.

“You desperately want me out of the picture? I’ll go. But look at me and tell me yourself that you never felt anything.” He challenged her.

Raquel reflexively held her hand out, trying to reach his wrists, but stopped herself knowing that he'd pull away as fast as her fingers touched his skin. She brought her eyes to his, hoping that he sees through her facade. “I’m sorry, Sergio.”

"All I’ve heard from you are excuses," he stated, unsatisfied with her answer. "Why?"

"Those are excuses because you refuse to see reason!"

"I’m not, Raquel." He narrowed his eyes, carefully studying the woman before her. "You’re holding back. What is it?"

She shook her head, making Sergio glower in anger and worry.

"What is it?" He pressed.

Raquel shook her head again, more furiously this time.

"What is it?" He repeated his question for the third time. "Please tell me. I need to know what I did wrong—"

"You were perfect, Sergio."

"Then what is it?!" His impatience grew every time he repeated the question.

"A-alberto."

Raquel had rehearsed in her head all the ways they could have broken up for the past three days, and none of them included having to resort to telling him the truth. But Sergio had already felt angry, confused, and hurt for the past ten minutes because of her, he deserved to know the truth. At least, the watered down version of it.

"You’re breaking up with me because I’m a risk for your career?" He asked like it was the most ridiculous thing in the world.

"No, Sergio! I’m breaking up with you because I don’t want him to use you as bait to get to me. He might use you against me! I don’t want you to get hurt!"

"I won’t break at the slightest pressure. Your ex-husband won't get to me!"

Images of Sergio being bruised and wounded because of Alberto flashed before her eyes. It wouldn't be the first time her ex-husband blackmailed someone by getting to the person they cared the most.

"You don't know that." She said softly. "I won’t ever forgive myself if you are hurt because of me."

"And you think I’d forgive myself if you get hurt and I’m not there?" He retorted, bringing his palms to his face in frustration. "Why won’t you let me help you?"

"Because I want to be able to sleep at night without him haunting me! And I won’t be able to escape that if I'm always dependent on you!"

"Is this some of your femini—"

"Don’t you _dare_ go there." Raquel stopped him before he finished his sentence. "This is a battle I would like, one that I need to fight myself."

They both fell silent.

"Please, Sergio. Let me win."

"Is that why you pulled strings to get me the job? To throw me in exile so I don’t get in your way?"

"No! That was supposed to make it easier for you to choose to leave."

"I love you," Sergio said with a gloomy smile. Tears welled up in her eyes, blurring her vision. Raquel realized that it may be the last time she would hear that sentence from him, "God, I love you so much that if this is what you want, I would gladly follow it. You should know that my whole life revolved around you—and would take me another lifetime for me to stop.

"But for God’s sake, Raquel. Stop toying with my emotions because you know you’ve got me wrapped around your little finger."

"W-what do you mean?"

"I’ll take the job. You want me out? I’ll go. But know that if he hurts you, I’ll be on the first plane home."

No. _No no no no no no._ Raquel was sure he said something else, but her mind stopped registering at "I'll go." Her chest tightened as if her heart was being pulled and torn into pieces and she had to stand awake to physically feel all of it. She could take it all back if she wanted to, but the damage had already been done, and around them were debris of what used to be.

They stared at each other, both drained from their shouting match a minute ago. And to add to the number of things Raquel had been stupidly impulsive about, she cupped his face and started to lean in.

Turning to his side, he avoided her. "You should go."

Raquel nodded and grabbed her purse. "I’m sorry."

And that was it—they were over.

_Done._

The only good thing that happened to her life recently and she pushed it away.

Raquel didn't know how much she had hurt him until a loud thud followed by the sound of glass breaking was heard across the hallway. She hurried to the lift, feeling both a sense of relief and heartbreak the moment her back met the cold walls of the elevator.

_I'm sorry, Sergio._

* * *

Escape was a word Raquel had to unlearn during her time at the academy. Training as a negotiator for emergency situations required her to think on her feet—which excluded anything related to a flight response. You simply cannot disappear mid-operation when the lives of hostages are in your hands. In the eyes of her colleagues, escaping was a sign of weakness. A sign of ignorance.

For years, Raquel pretended that the word ceased to exist--often ending up with her overworking herself. It wasn't until she had left the police force that she realized that escape wasn't an act of frailty. Sometimes it is exactly what you need in order for you to be able to move along. And when your surroundings remind you of someone you would rather forget for a while, the only choice you have is to escape.

 _Escaping_. That is exactly what she was doing at the moment.

Rolling a small suitcase on her apartment's floorboard, she took a last glance at her flat. In her mind, Raquel still saw everything they did together—from his first visit when she bought the place, to their movie nights, even their most carnal moments. The door closed with a soft thud and it felt like closing a chapter.

The drive to Laura's home usually took three hours on a normal weekday, but it took Raquel five after stopping every district or so to either eat, rest, or cry. Her car had finally been in use after months of being parked in her complex's basement simply because she didn't need it. It was always a cab, the production vehicle, or Sergio accompanying her to and fro destination.

Somehow, it felt good to have her hands on the steering wheel—it took her mind off things. Only the occasional soft barks from Icarus, who was currently propped up with a seatbelt on her passenger seat, helped her stay grounded.

The familiar exterior of her sister's house rolled into her line of sight and within a few minutes, all her luggage was moved into the living room: two overnight bags, a small carrier for Icarus, and a worn-out red suitcase. Truth be told, Raquel didn’t know how long she was going away when she impulsively packed her belongings. 

Laura re-entered the area with a glass of water in her hand and a sympathetic smile on her face. Raquel had only texted her sister a few hours prior to her departure who immediately replied with a "sure, just bring booze on your way." She was sure it was meant as a joke, but she did anyway.

"Thanks," the older sibling muttered before sipping on the frosted glass.

Footsteps shuffled from the stairs, and there emerged her mother with a surprised look. "Is that Raquel?"

"It's me, mama." Raquel forced a smile, before being enveloped in a hug from the older woman.

Eyeing the luggage at the side of the room and the small dog circling Raquel's feet, her mother put on a face of concern. "I thought you were just visiting for a day." Raquel shook her head and the older woman knew. She was Raquel’s mother after all. "Are you alright?"

When Raquel failed to answer, her mother quickly pulled her into an embrace, and the tears that she had held back for the last six hours had finally emerged. Her knees almost gave out at the intensity as quiet sobs turned to frantic ones while she cried on her mother's shoulders. Her mother held her until her tremors subsided and her tears had stopped streaming down her cheeks.

The night sky and the cold breeze blanketed Raquel as she sat down on Laura's wooden porch in her backyard, a cardigan on her shoulder, and a sleeping Icarus on her lap. The dog had scurried to find her when she left the house. When he did find her, he called her attention multiple times, just like he always did when Raquel felt down.

The sound of the door chime from behind her piqued her attention. "It's nice out here, right? I like staying up late and watching the sky. It's much clearer than in Madrid." Her sister commented. "Mom asked me to check up on you." Laura sat down next to her.

Raquel turned to her sister. "I’m fine."

"I’m not as gullible as I used to be when we were kids." Laura shrugged. "Coffee?"

"I could use something with an extra punch." Raquel implied, but she accepted the mug anyway.

Her sister grinned wickedly. "I have just the thing." Her younger sister went back to the kitchen where a few clinking bottles and glass were heard. Raquel smiled at the familiar sound. Laura re-emerged with a bottle of whiskey.

"Ah. If Mom found us drinking she’d have a fit."

"We’ll always be her little girls. Never mind that you became a cop." Her sister poured a decent amount of alcohol in her coffee, stopping only when its content was almost filled to the brim.

"Thanks for the coffee," Raquel mused. "And for letting me crash your guest room."

"That’s what sisters are for, right?"

"You say that as if we didn’t spend our teenage years trying to rip each other’s throat. I don’t know how Mom kept the both of us alive."

To say that it was a miracle both of them grew up together unscathed was an understatement. Their relationship growing up wasn't tough love at all. They fought in every single thing possible, even the most ridiculous ones. Civility finally grew on them in college and when they started working, but at that point it was too late. There was no point to talking about anything past the holiday and birthday greetings.

"She was wise enough to understand that if she had locked us in a room until we apologized to each other, one would reemerge with a bald patch."

Raquel let out a hearty laugh. "I have strong hands. That would definitely be you."

Her sister made a sound of agreement. "I would have found a way to get back at you."

The actress grinned at her sister, knowing well that she was right. She fell silent once again, contentedly sipping at her whiskey-spiked coffee, her mind running around, always bumping and rushing headfirst to the thought of Sergio.

"Not that I’m disappointed to see you, but why are you here?" Her younger sister asked, carefully tiptoeing around the topic. After all, only in an extreme emergency would Raquel go directly to her sister and not him.

"I need to tell you something."

Laura sat up straighter and stretched her legs. "I have all night."

The actress nodded. "How do I begin? Everything started when I had a rough patch in my career. Casting directors didn’t want me to audition, producers saw me as the hotheaded divorcee actress in the country. I started to become a cigarette butt everyone threw out when they’re done.

"Agata thought of a scheme, something that I didn’t agree to at first. Sergio and I... we played a ruse on everyone. The engagement was a ploy."

Her sister furrowed her eyebrows. "But—you two... You look..."

She sighed. "It was all for show at first. Then, a lot happened."

"Are you together now? For real?"

"We are," Raquel confirmed, then corrected herself. "Were. All the deception we showed always had an ounce of truth in it. What you saw at the wedding? That was real. Sergio... had been waiting for me since he studied in America."

"Wow." Her sister breathed. "That’s a long time. Did he ever try to pursue you before?"

"Explicitly? No. I realize now that all the little things he did for me through the years were his silent way of telling me that he was there, and he’ll always be there."

Raquel combed her thoughts, opening some kind of vault in her brain where she had stored their precious memories. There were just too many. He followed her anywhere she went, gave her company when she felt alone, and made her laugh until her stomach ached when she cried, and that was even before they began their ruse.

Sergio was too good to her and all she did was be selfish. The thought alone left her guilty.

Laura smiled longingly. "I yearn for that kind of love. You’re lucky to have found it."

"I broke it off this morning."

Hearing it from being said out loud cemented it into reality. A part of her still refused to believe that they were over like it was a bad dream she needed to wake up from. Maybe because she that part of her expected Sergio to fight for them, to understand why she did what she had done.

Raquel paused for a good minute before continuing. "Alberto—he threatened to blackmail me if I don’t drop the case we were planning to file against him. I—I got scared so I broke it off with Sergio to make sure Alberto doesn’t get to him... I thought by removing him from the p-picture... He couldn’t get to me through Sergio.

"If Alberto did release anything, I—we would be unscathed... God, I can’t even justify what I did. Fuck. I’m so stupid, not to mention a fucking coward."

"You’re not a coward, Raquel. You know that."

Raquel shook her head, denying her sister's statement. "I pushed the only constant person in my life away for my personal gain. How is that not cowardice?"

"Choosing yourself above others is not cowardice," Her sister reassured her. "I’m sure he’ll understand that."

“I only told him I loved him once. I’m not even sure if he heard. If I did screw us up, my life’s greatest tragedy would be that I didn’t tell him how much he meant to me.”

A soft hand went to her forearm, squeezing it lightly. "I know we didn’t see eye to eye as children and most of our adult lives, but you’re the bravest person I know."

Raquel smiled softly. "I just wish I could go all in, you know? To love without anything holding you back. To excel at what you do with no room for doubts. To be happy without thinking that it would be taken back any time."

"You do go all in," Laura contested. "Remember when we were little? Mom used to bring us to the beach and you’d stay on the shore, reading a book, because you didn’t want to swim too far? And when we finally got you in the water, you wouldn’t stop swimming, no matter how much Mom tried to tell you it was time to go home."

The actress listened intently, but she still didn't get the point of her sister's storytelling. "And your point is?"

"You go all in. Once you get past your initial doubt. And do you know what you’re doing? You’re getting past that doubt. I couldn’t be prouder of you because of that."

For the first time in years, Laura pulled her sister in a hug. Raquel moved closer, muttering her thanks—for the alcohol-spiked coffee, for letting her crash in, and for her advice. It didn't dawn on Raquel that her younger sibling would be the one comforting her with words.

She stayed a few minutes longer after her sister retired to bed, basking under the star-speckled sky and the moonlight the waning moon provides. When she returned to the room they prepared for her, she changed into a shirt of his before slipping under the comforter. Even with a warm blanket wrapping her body, she felt cold. Even with a single-sized bed fit only for one person, it felt empty.

Raquel struggled to sleep that night, even resorting to taking in sleeping pills. Drowsiness came and she felt relief. At least in her sleep, she wouldn't feel the guilt and remorse that had been eating her alive.

Her last thoughts, however, were still of him, as she wrapped his shirt around her body closer. The faint scent of his cologne in the fabric engulfed her—lulling her to sleep.

_I'm sorry, Sergio._

  
  



End file.
